


Pursuing Hyacinths

by JennaSinclair



Series: Sharing the Sunlight (STS) [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 21:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 51,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaSinclair/pseuds/JennaSinclair
Summary: Just months into the new relationship between Kirk and Spock, problems ensue when the Enterprise visits a colony based on bigotry at the same time that Kirk encounters problems melding with Spock.





	Pursuing Hyacinths

**Author's Note:**

> "Pursuing Hyacinths" is the third entry in my Sharing the Sunlight series. Each work was written so that a reader could catch up with what is going on if they haven’t read the previous stories, but of course you’ll get a bit more if you read the series in order. I use the name Jenna Sinclair for this K/S series. I use Jenna Hilary Sinclair for all other fanfiction and my professional work.
> 
> Here's the series in chronological order:
> 
> 1\. Sharing the Sunlight (novel)  
> 2\. Reflections on a Lunar Landscape  
> 3\. Pursuing Hyacinths (novella)  
> 4\. Heart’s Delight (novella)  
> 5\. Primal Scream  
> 6\. Parallel Courses  
> 7\. Double Trouble  
> 8\. Son of Sarek (novella)  
> 9\. Promises to Keep (novel)  
> 10\. Jagged Edges  
> 11\. Manna  
> 12\. Journey’s End  
> 13\. One Night  
> 14\. In the Shade (novel)

“Well, do we pass your little inspection, or are you going to have all medical personnel swabbing the decks?” McCoy’s drawl behind him surprised Kirk, and he turned to find the grinning doctor leaning against the doorjamb to the sickbay supply room.

“I didn’t want your nurses to have the time to hide your instruments of torture, Doctor McCoy. That’s what surprise inspections are all about,” Kirk said, as sternly as he could.

McCoy clapped a hand to his forehead and straightened. “My God, you mean you found them? The manacles and the rack? Not the thumb screws too? And the…” his voice dropped, dripping with conspiracy, “the…evil tasting cough medicine?”

Kirk managed to restrain his smile. “Right, Doctor, and I should turn you in to the Surgeon General’s office. No sentient being should be subjected to the horrors of this sickbay. Of course…” he tilted his head and folded his arms across his chest, “I could probably be persuaded to keep my silence with a small bribe.”

Over Kirk’s shoulder, McCoy could see Nurse Bronson clap a hand over her mouth to still her giggles. Tech Harless, over by the pharmaceutical dispenser on the wall, was listening to the comic exchange with open mouthed and undisguised fascination. McCoy momentarily wondered if it were possible the man thought they were serious. Nah. Even straight laced, literal Harless would know teasing when he heard it. Even Spock understood teasing.

McCoy returned his attention to the expectant captain. He swept him a low bow, and motioned toward the CMO’s office. “Your wish is my command, Captain, sir.” He straightened. “Bribery right this way.”

The door swished shut behind them, and Kirk stood behind one of the chairs before the desk, his hands lightly gripping the backrest. McCoy sat down behind his desk. The two men looked at each other with easy smiles for a moment, before McCoy gestured to the chair and said, “You gonna sit a spell, or is this bribe and run?”

Kirk glanced at the chronometer on the credenza behind McCoy. “A few minutes, Bones. I want to inspect the main science lab before they get started on that new experiment and I get locked out.”

McCoy grunted. Nobody could literally lock the captain out of any part of the ship, but Kirk had always scrupulously observed the niceties imposed by the scientists serving on the _Enterprise_. And Spock had been known to get mighty testy when one of his precious experiments was ruined by a thoughtless intruder.

McCoy watched lazily as Kirk seated himself.

“Stop by tonight for a drink?” he asked idly. “Haven’t seen too much of you lately.”

“Yeah, well, you know I’ve been busy. Those environmental repairs were a bitch. I hope Starfleet charges Tristar with attempted murder.” The _Enterprise_ had stopped by a Tristar Conglomerate station for urgent work on their environmental components. Just days after they had left the station and turned toward their next assignment, the system had crashed, and everyone had spent frantic hours putting back the pieces. The components supplied by Tristar had been, for the most part, defective. Scotty had jury rigged replacements as fast as he could, but still everyone had been on edge. Now they were a good week behind their scheduled trip to the Corrigan Colonies, and McCoy had heard through the grapevine that Admiral Komack was not pleased.

“I know, Jim, I hope they get nailed too. I had four beds occupied, on critical, remember?” McCoy was thankful all the casualties were now up and back on duty, leaving him and his staff with time to cheerfully spar with the captain. “Anyway, that’s over with. Can you have a drink tonight?”

Kirk smiled at him, a small, tight little smile that did not reach his eyes, and instantly alerted McCoy that something was wrong. “Sure, Bones, your quarters, 1930? I’ll collect on the bribe.”

_Tread carefully,_ McCoy told himself. _Don’t push._ Kirk never responded well to too much prying. But his presence here, casually spending a few minutes with his CMO and friend, might be a subtle, and possibly even an unconscious invitation to share whatever it was that was on his mind. McCoy had gone this route with the captain before. Where to start?

“Speaking of inspections, Jim,” he leaned back in his chair and clasped his hand behind his head, “are we still waiting for Admiral N’Kara’s final report on the Mid Mission Review inspection?”

Kirk snorted in derision. “Yeah. First, Starfleet waits until we’re almost three years into the mission before they bother to schedule the MMR inspection, and then they force us to wait months for the final report. If Starfleet was as inefficient in everything else as they are in getting those reports out, we’d all probably be Klingons by now.” He shook his head. “There’s something about the bureaucratic mentality….”

“How are we gonna do, Jim?” McCoy was honestly curious. “I know you’ve already reviewed the first draft, but what about the final edition?” Like everyone else on board, McCoy wanted the honor of the _Enterprise_ to be upheld.

Kirk spread his hands. “I don’t think there will be a problem, Bones. God knows, we should pass with flying colors. But there were a few sections….” Kirk frowned, gaze turning inward, contemplating the injustice Starfleet might be perpetrating in the report. “I sent a memo to Admiral N’Kara, explaining a few things. Of all of them, he’s a reasonable man. He’ll understand.” Kirk’s head lifted, and he smiled a little fixedly. “I expect the final draft to be an A plus.”

“But you’re not sure, and that worries you a little,” McCoy probed.

“Not too much, Bones. Even if they kept in the…criticisms, it would still be one of the best inspection reports any starship has ever received.”

“Good,” McCoy brought his hands back down and nodded. “It’ll give the crew a chance to celebrate when it comes in.” He and Kirk, and for that matter Spock, too, were always linked in their desire to enhance crew morale.

So what else? The inspection was on Kirk’s mind, but there must be something more to his distracted, worried air. “When will we reach the Corrigan Colonies?”

It was obviously a raw nerve. Kirk shifted in his chair, and the hands that had been folded in his lap clenched slightly.

“Another five days or so. Listen, Bones, I’ve really got to be going. The science lab calls.” Kirk rose and headed for the door before turning round and backing out. “And I’ll stop by for that drink. 1930. After that I’ve got to meet with Spock about some things.” The bleak look was back in his eyes, and McCoy wondered if it was caused by the prospect of discussing the unknown problem of the Corrigan Colonies with Spock. So far as McCoy knew, there wasn’t anything about those two planets that was too worrisome. A group of scientists on one, a fairly strict religious cult on the other, involved in some sort of asteroid mining dispute that the _Enterprise_ was supposed to resolve. The Eternists were a pretty intolerant bunch, he recalled. But whatever was bothering Jim, inspection reports, or scientists, or cults, his quick flight indicated that he was far from ready to talk about it.

McCoy waved a silent good bye, and watched as Kirk retreated. The captain had a lot on his mind. And it would probably take a lot more than just a brandy to loosen his tongue. Maybe he’d be able to talk it out with Spock. The two of them had been spending a lot of time together lately.

Sighing, McCoy pushed his worry about his friend to the back of his mind and turned his attention to ubiquitous paperwork. He’d have to get these forms filled in before they dropped off that equipment on Corrigan Alpha….

 

“Oh God, don’t move,” Kirk moaned. A drop of sweat trickled down his nose and landed with a plop among the hairs on Spock’s chest. “Don’t move or I’ll come.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly.

Kirk gave a little gasp as Spock stopped pushing onto the hair trigger cock in mid motion. The muscles in the long legs that were draped over Kirk’s shoulders tensed and then relaxed; the anal muscles that had been rhythmically contracting around his cock slackened. Thankfully, Kirk allowed himself to relax a little, and to feel a surge of affection for the precious Vulcan who tried to obey his orders even here, in the captain’s bed.

The warmth of a loving hand ran up his tensed arm. “If I am not to move, I hope that you will not mind if I continue to breathe?” Spock asked. Only the slight breathiness of his voice betrayed the passion Kirk knew he was holding at bay.

“Oh, great,” Kirk groaned again. “Just what I need. I’m dying and you’re making jokes.” He pried his eyes open and looked down at his lover beneath him. “What kind of Vulcan are you, anyway?” he accused.

“A Vulcan who is in an extremely compromising position with his commanding officer,” Spock responded promptly. He made no effort to hide the teasing glint that sparkled in his eyes.

“Compromising? Is that what you call this?” Kirk gave a little thrust into Spock’s warmth, and gasped.

Spock quickly arched his back to meet him, trying to follow the cock as Kirk withdrew, and made a little sound of frustration when his lover stopped his movement after only the one lunge forward. He stared upwards at the passion drenched face in bafflement. “Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?” Kirk half panted, still recovering from the thrill of sensation that had almost finished him off when he had moved within his lover’s tightness. He closed his eyes again.

“Deny yourself completion. Deny me as well. It is not consistent with your typically impetuous nature, nor your actions leading up to this point. You seem to pursue our orgasms most avidly, but then once they are imminent you frequently do everything you can to postpone the moment.”

Kirk opened his eyes and looked down at Spock, wondering how he could lecture so and yet still look so…absolutely desirable. His bangs were swept off to the side in disarray; Kirk remembered mussing them in delight a few minutes ago when he had wanted to kiss every inch of the beloved, angular face. His expression was animated; Kirk could clearly see genuine puzzlement written all over the Vulcan features. Only passion loosened the strict controls Spock normally kept over his expression. Kirk saw that there, too, in the way his lover was still breathing a bit heavily, in the fullness to the lips that he had kissed so thoroughly.

Kirk smiled lovingly. This was the new Spock whom only he was privileged to see; passionate and loving, yet still analytical and ever curious. “Has it ever occurred to you that I just might like talking to you?” Another drop of sweat fell from his beaded forehead to the hairy chest. Although Kirk could feel the insistent call of his orgasm fading, he was still overheated from their exertions.

Spock’s forehead furrowed. It was clear that his own sexual excitement of moments before had been lost in his curiosity. “But you have the opportunity to speak with me numerous times throughout the day.”

“But this is different, lover. So different. Besides, talking cools off the excitement a little bit, so we can last a little longer.” Kirk unlocked his elbows so that their lips were just able to touch in a gentle kiss. Spock murmured in appreciation, and moved his lips back and forth against Kirk’s softness. It was Spock’s favorite way to kiss, and usually led to an open mouthed assault that left them both gasping. The warm hands resting on Kirk’s arms tightened around his biceps, but before either of them could move into renewed passion, the long legs that were bent over Kirk’s shoulders began to tremble with the strain of being pushed back. Kirk ended the kiss and pulled back onto his arms again quickly. “Sorry,” he said, and shook sweat out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He affectionately surveyed the lean body of his lover. “This position isn’t very satisfying sometimes. After a kiss like that, I wish I could hold you.”

“Indeed. While it is gratifying to be able to watch your face,” Spock’s fingers lightly caressed Kirk’s lips with butterfly touches, “it is equally frustrating not to experience further bodily contact. This,” his hand moved down and around to encircle the root of Kirk’s cock where it entered his body, “is not always enough.”

Kirk smiled tenderly down at his friend, thinking how wonderful it was that Spock could touch him in that intimate, exciting way. How wonderful it was that Spock wanted to touch him like that. “I never thought,” he whispered, “that you would be such a romantic, Spock. Not in a million years.”

Brown eyes smiled back at him. “You do not mind.” It was not really a question.

“I don’t mind anything about you,” Kirk choked. “I love it all.”

For a long moment they just looked at one another, Kirk’s eyes soft and full, Spock’s glowing with happiness. It was one of those moments that Kirk wanted to burn into his memory forever; to remember always, exactly how it was between them in this wonderful, revealing time. Spock looking deeply into his eyes, he looking deeply into Spock’s, all the love and passion that they had discovered together carried in a single glance.

Kirk’s throat contracted with emotion, almost painfully. God, he loved Spock so much. He wanted to give him pleasure, he wanted to make him happy, sometimes he felt as if he would do anything to see the glow of contentment in the brown eyes. Especially since….

“I want to make this good for you,” Kirk whispered. “Let’s try something different.”

Spock squeezed his fingers around the base of his lover’s cock, in affection, then reluctantly removed his hand from where it had been between their bodies. “What?” he asked simply.

“Let’s see if we can finally find your prostate,” Kirk offered, and carefully, he pulled his penis out of Spock. A wet smacking sound came with it.

With a sigh, Spock straightened his legs against the mattress by spreading them to either side of the kneeling Kirk. His hand dropped to knead along one thigh. “I know precisely where my prostate is,” Spock protested mildly. “And we have no reason to believe that it would provide sexual pleasure in the same way that a human one does.”

“Yeah, but this,” Kirk indicated the length of his organ, “hasn’t even found your prostate yet. We never seem to be in the right position for you.”

“Jim,” Spock said softly, “every act of love in which we have engaged the past ninety seven days has been the ‘right position’ for me.”

Kirk lifted his knees over Spock’s legs so that he could sprawl next to him on the bed. He turned over on his side and pulled the warm form of his lover over to face him. Spock leaned forward to kiss him, but Kirk pulled away after a moment and admonished, “Don’t be so easy to please. When you’ve been inside me, stroking against my prostate has felt really nice. Not like being inside you myself, of course, and not like your hand or your mouth on my prick, but different. Really nice. It’s hard to explain.”

Spock’s hand tangled in Kirk’s hair. It was a characteristic caress that puzzled Kirk as much as it amused him. No one else had ever been interested in his hair. Spock’s deep voice rumbled, “I believe you are attempting to explain a psychological reaction to the act of penetration. I agree that it is difficult to put into words.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Kirk said earnestly. “There’s a definite physical sensation, pleasure. I want you to feel that, too. A Vulcan’s prostate might be harder to locate, but I think it’s about time we tried, don’t you?”

Spock looked down between their bodies, at where Jim’s still erect penis was poking against his stomach. He glanced back up at Jim. “It may not be possible. You are aware that the gland is located fairly high up against the anal canal, encircling the base of the….”

Jim pushed up against him aggressively, choking back rueful laughter. “Are you trying to tell me, Commander, that my prick may not be long enough?”

Spock leaned forward to kiss him. “Yes, sir,” he murmured against the silken lips.

“Your cock might be long, Spock,” Kirk pulled back and eyed his lover with a suspiciously trembling mouth, “and able to reach up high, but it’s thin.” His hand went down to capture the organ in question within his knowing fingers. “Your cock looks just like you do. Tall and thin.”

“Whereas yours, my Captain,” Spock looked Kirk directly in the eye, “reflects your own physique. Sturdily constructed, with broad shoulders.” Spock leaned closer to nuzzle his lips along the sturdy neck. “I regard your sexual organ in the same way that I regard your body,” he murmured. “It inspires confidence. It is attractive, in an indefinable way. It is practiced in the art of decisive movement. However, it is not terribly ta….”

With a growl Kirk was upon him, rolling Spock over and covering him with his body. “That’s enough,” he commanded, but there was a distinct twinkle in his eyes as he supported more of his weight on his elbows and looked down at his lover. The twinkle grew, and turned into a loving smile.

And Spock smiled back up at him. The simple action made Kirk’s heart turn over with love. It was just a small, gentle curve of the lips that he was witnessing, but it was a genuine smile nevertheless, backed by a glow of confidence and affection in the brown eyes.

“I believe in IDIC, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said softly, while he traced the line of a curved eyebrow with his finger. “Infinite Diversity. Infinite Combinations. It would be boring if we were all the same, wouldn’t you agree?” He leaned forward for a slow, chaste, closed-mouth kiss. They both closed their eyes, softened their lips, and gently moved them together for a long time. When Kirk finally pulled his head back, he looked deeply into Spock’s eyes and whispered, “We are a very different but matched set, my love. So unlike, and yet so alike. And I love the way you look, every part of you. I love your cock, just the way it is.”

“And your penis, Jim, is the instrument of my pleasure. How could I deny it, or you, my regard?” A gently arched brow accompanied the softly stated words of love.

Sighing, Kirk lowered himself to rest his head on Spock’s hairy chest. “I love this, you know,” he said with a little catch to his voice. “I’ve never talked to anybody like I talk with you.”

Spock’s arms tightened about his lover. “I know. And you are aware that your words are equally true for me.”

They lay like that, in silence, for long moments, in peace. Kirk knew that soon they would kiss again, caress each other’s bodies into excitement, reach fulfillment in orgasm. But for now he was content to simply lie here like this, in Spock’s arms.

They had always been attuned to one another. From the first moment their eyes had met, two strangers, there had been a certain spark between them. An understanding that transcended cultural barriers and different life experiences, one that had found expression past all the barricades that Spock had erected. They had become friends, yes, but friendship had not been enough, for either of them.

Kirk shook his head a little against the warmth of Spock’s hairy chest, in remembered disbelief. Like the team they had been from the very beginning, together they had fallen in love. And Spock trusted him so much. Trusted him with his hidden sexuality, with the little smiles that lit up Kirk’s heart, with the secrets of the lonely, aching soul.

And with all the joy, too. The past ninety seven days had been filled with joy. And laughter. Kirk chuckled now silently, his mouth pressed just inches above a green tinged nipple. Spock really knew how to make him laugh. His Vulcan lover used an utterly deadpan expression and exquisite timing to good effect. And when Spock smiled at him…well, who could resist? Sometimes, after they made love, Spock would loll back against the pillow, and look at him, with a such a delicious curving of his lips….

The thought made his loins tingle. Spock in the glow of aftermath was matched only by Spock in the midst of passion.

Kirk rolled off to one side, and nudged his still erect cock against Spock’s thigh. “Now that we’ve established the fact of our mutual admiration, what do you say to a little experiment?” He punctuated his words with another gentle thrust.

Spock nodded. He turned on his side and trailed his hand across Kirk’s broad shoulders, skimmed along a ticklish side, and finally settled with Jim’s balls cupped in his hand. “I am not adverse to such proceedings. So long as you recognize that our efforts may not be successful, simply because of my Vulcan physiology. What do you suggest?”

“I think we just need to push forward more. Angle things more sharply. Why don’t you turn over, with your back against me, and we’ll try it from on our sides.”

Spock promptly released his hold on Jim’s testicles and turned over onto his other side.

Kirk snuggled up close behind him, wrapped his left arm around the slender waist and kissed the back of Spock’s neck. “Hmmmm,” he said dreamily, “this is more like it.”

Spock pushed back against the stiff cock that had already found a resting place along his crack. He wiggled a little to ensure maximum contact. Then he reached for the hand wrapped around him, and lifted it to his mouth. “Indeed,” he murmured, and slowly planted a trail of kisses all along the index finger.

Kirk caught his breath. He positively tingled. And he could feel his cock returning to its former rock hard condition. “Hey,” he grunted into a pointed ear, languor deserting him completely, “let’s get this show on the road. Move your leg forward.”

Obediently, Spock pushed his upper leg forward, and Kirk disentangled their hands to quickly reach for the lubricant. He made short work of squirting some additional cream onto his sensitive organ, then reached down to guide his cock into place. He felt the tip find its home against the resisting band of muscle.

“Ready?” Without waiting for a reply he pushed, and felt himself breach the sphincter and go slowly sliding into Spock’s body. “Ahhhh…” he breathed, and stopped moving when he was only halfway in. It was something he always did, to give Spock a chance to adjust to him, but also to give himself a chance to focus in on the incredible warmth and tightness of his lover’s body.

He rested his forehead against the long back. “Love,” he whispered, “why do you always feel so wonderful?”

There was no reply, but Spock reached for the hand that gripped his hip, tugged at it, then placed it squarely on his own erect penis.

Kirk began to pant a little. He loved the feeling of Spock’s cock in his hand. It was always so warm, so heavy, so alive. When he squeezed it, sometimes he could feel it pulse against his palm. He squeezed it now, just under the double ridges, and a little thrill coursed through him when he heard Spock gasp. He knew from experience that Spock could climax with him, given just a little manual attention. Kirk’s fingers tightened again around the long, green tinged shaft, then he slid them upwards to caress the flared out tip. He heard Spock catch his breath sharply as his thumb lingered over the velvety head.

Kirk could usually tell how excited Spock was by the ridges. When they were within his mouth he could actually feel them growing with every lick and suck, and stir in a final convulsive movement right before his lover came. Now they were flared out, but not yet stiff. They should have some time for “experimentation.” Assuming, of course, that he himself could stay the distance.

Kirk pushed forward with his hips, and felt his entire cock being swallowed up by Spock’s ass as he slid it home. He fought to stay calm; after all, he was the one who had suggested this, and he truly wanted to give Spock the chance to have the pleasure he himself had experienced. But with the warm cock so velvety smooth in his hand, and his own body starting to reach for pleasure, with the heady proximity of the long body pressed all along the length of his own…it wasn’t likely that this experiment was going to be too terribly clinical.

“All right,” he panted, and he started to move his cock back and forth in short sharp movements. “Tell me what feels the best. It’s got to be in there somewhere.” He squeezed the life in his hand in time to his thrusts.

For a few long minutes there was only the startlingly intimate sound of flesh sliding within flesh, and their loud breathing. Then Kirk shifted further down in the bed, and began to thrust more upwards into his lover’s body. “How’s this?” he asked.

“Most pleasurable, Jim,” Spock said breathlessly, and he reached behind him to grasp Kirk’s hip. “I have always appreciated this form of our intimate contact—”

“Not that,” Kirk gasped impatiently. The rhythm of his movements was beginning to overcome his desire to postpone their climax. “I already know you love to be fucked! Can you feel anything different?”

“Regrettably not. No. However, this current stimulation is more than enough….” Spock pushed back strongly into one of the thrusts, and Kirk could feel the cock in his hand grow even harder. Quickly, he moved down to cup Spock’s balls. Spock moaned in disappointment. “Jim….”

“No,” Kirk said stubbornly. “Not yet. How about this?” He shifted half way on top of his lover, bracing himself on his right arm and forcing Spock’s legs further apart, and continued moving. He was going to find that damned Vulcan prostate tonight if he had to…to…to think about Denebian slime devils while they fucked all night.

But that wasn’t going to be possible. Abruptly Spock shifted under him, edging his right shoulder under Kirk’s extended arm, and pushing up effortlessly with Vulcan strength. They ended up on their knees, Kirk kneeling behind his lover, pressed against his buttocks and leaning across his back.

“Spock!” he half protested, but his actions belied his tone when he grabbed the narrow shoulders and thrust all the way into the tight channel.

“There is nothing in the…medical literature,” Spock was braced on all fours, his head hanging low. He paused to take a deep breath and clench around the penis in his body. Kirk gasped. “There is nothing in the literature,” Spock continued raggedly, “that indicates a sexual response in the Vulcan prostate. We will never find it, and I grow impatient with our efforts. However, we are both well aware of another area where I can be stimulated.” And he turned his head around to look meaningfully at Kirk mounted above him.

“You want it here,” and Kirk pulled back enough so that his hand could snake beneath his stomach, to caress against the small of Spock’s back.

“Yessss…” Spock hissed, and he pushed back and upward for more pressure.

The movement impaled him even more firmly onto Kirk’s yearning cock, sending an absolutely urgent message into Kirk’s brain. Move!

“All right, you impatient Vulcan,” he gasped, and kneaded his hand hard into the soft skin beneath it. “I’ll give you what you want. But just because,” he thrust into warmth, pulled out quickly, then thrust in again, “just because,” the sweat was beginning to pour into his eyes again, he was gasping through gritted teeth, “because you are the best damn fuck I have ever had.”

He began to move in earnest. He slid his hand out from between them and pressed out with his stomach muscles instead. He knew that it accomplished almost the same thing, and he wanted to grab the straining cock. Much as Spock loved the stimulation to his peculiarly Vulcan erogenous zone, he had never been able to climax without Kirk’s hand on him, and Kirk wanted to get them off together, if he could.

Kirk rubbed against the sensitive skin as he thrust within again, and Spock shivered violently all over, a wildly exciting maneuver that almost dislodged Kirk from his perch above. But he had been anticipating the reaction and hung on. The cock was rock hard. The ridges were as aroused as Kirk had ever felt them, and there was a smear of liquid that slid onto his finger when he passed it over the swollen head. He thrust forward again, his motion a little inhibited by the necessity of keeping his body pressed against Spock’s back, and was rewarded when the hardness in his hand jerked. Spock moaned.

“You like this, don’t you?” he exulted out loud, and squeezed possessively. “You like this and you are so close to coming.” Spock moaned again, and his arms and legs quivered. “I’m close, too.” It was hard to speak coherently while he was thrusting so vigorously, with the exciting, wanton sounds of pleasure his lover was now making punctuating his words, but he wanted to drive Spock crazy, and talking on the verge of orgasm always put Spock right over the edge. “I’m gonna come soon, Spock. Come inside of you. And you’re gonna come with me, I can tell. Your cock’s ready. It feels good.” He pulled almost all the way out, then thrust forward sharply, as far as he could go in. “Oh, God, your ass feels good too. So good. I’m almost there, Spock. Come with me. Feel me inside of you? Al…most…there….”

“Yes!” Spock shouted, and surged back against him desperately. “Jim! Jim! I…I….” They slapped against one another in furious counterpoint.

Nothing felt better than this! Nothing in the universe was better than Spock under him, all the Vulcan restraints discarded in pleasure, knowing they were so, so close, that they were going to….

“I’m coming!” Kirk cried wildly. His seed spurted into the warmth and darkness.

“Jim!!” Spock shouted, and he stiffened as his cock poured creamy liquid all over his lover’s hand.

After those few frozen moments of ecstasy, Kirk slumped forward, his weight pushing Spock into the mattress. But with his lover’s Vulcan strength, it never mattered when he lay bonelessly all over the warm form, and it was another expression of intimacy they had both grown to love and expect. Kirk curled one hand around the curve of Spock’s shoulder, settled his head on the flat shoulderblade, and concentrated on steadying his breathing. The familiar motions of Spock breathing beneath him added to his total, utter contentment.

Kirk’s hand was still slick with his lover’s semen. The hell with cleaning up, he thought, his mind and body both hazy with delicious feeling. He rubbed his hand along the soft skin at Spock’s waist, gently massaging the liquid into the skin, along the bony hip, in and over the soft curve of buttocks. Beneath him, Spock sighed, turned his head against the pillow, glanced at him once, then closed his eyes again. There was a contented, small smile curving his lips.

“Have you discovered a new skin cream?” his voice rumbled.

“Uh huh,” Kirk said. He felt his penis softening, and pulled back carefully to allow it to slip free. When he looked up again, Spock was handing him a moist towelette for cleansing from over his shoulder. Kirk took it without comment and wiped himself off. They had both adjusted to the practical realities of their love making without embarrassment from the very beginning, and now gave little thought to them.

Kirk settled down on his side, and pulled his unresisting lover against him. “I guess we still haven’t found it,” Kirk said softly into the neck next to his mouth. His lips found a spot to suck, and he worried the pale flesh between his teeth.

“Indeed. I am not terribly concerned.” Spock carefully turned onto his back, and Kirk’s sucking lips merely followed the curve of the neck until he was at the delicious hollow. Spock sighed, and raised long fingers to tangle in Kirk’s hair. Soft sucking sounds continued.

They lay like that until Kirk was sure that tomorrow there would be a mark where his lips had been. Then he raised his head to look deeply into Spock’s eyes. “Oh, really?” he whispered. “Then you liked that anyway?”

“You could not possibly have a doubt,” Spock softly, positively replied, with a lifted brow. He traced a line along his lover’s jaw. “The expression of greater enthusiasm is beyond me.” Then the brow dropped, and the teasing gleam in his eyes turned infinitely softer. He whispered, “I thank you for your efforts, Jim, and for the pleasure you have given me.” His hand caressed the smooth cheek. “So much pleasure. So many gifts.”

Kirk turned his head to kiss the palm of the caressing hand. “I love you,” he choked, overwhelmed by the onslaught of feelings that possessed his soul, and suddenly consumed by guilt over what he knew was going to come next.

And he was right. Spock’s hand slid up to seek the meld points on the side of his face. “Join with me,” Spock whispered, asking permission, as he always did, before entering into a meld with his lover.

And for the very first time, Kirk pulled away from the touch of those loving fingers, and said, “No.”

 

 

In the long, silent moments that followed, Kirk closed his eyes. He could hear Spock’s sharply indrawn breath, could still feel the whisper touch of those fingertips against his face. He knew that the touch was only physical, knew bone deep, blood strong, that Spock would never touch his mind after that betraying whisper. And in the eternity that passed before Spock spoke, Kirk’s mind disconnected from the turmoil of the present, and cast away out into darkness, seeking other memories, remembering….

…the first time ever he had melded with his first officer, just weeks after Kirk had assumed command. They were prisoners around a flickering campfire in the night, a brash young captain and four crewmen. The primitive natives were curious about everything, fingering their clothing, touching with rough hands the tricorders, communicators. They listened to Kirk’s overtures of peace and explanation with frightened eyes, each word seeming to add to their fear. Frustration added an edge to Kirk’s voice as he realized that he wasn’t getting through to them, even with the Universal Translator. Finally, a sharpened flint knife pressed against his throat silenced him. Shadows flickered over the tall Vulcan form that moved protectively near. But he didn’t need Spock’s silent presence or the sharp gestures from the natives to get the definite message: do not speak. The trickle of blood he could feel oozing from the small knife wound in his neck was message enough.

They settled down in silence, his first officer subsiding next to him. After a few moments of quiet, Spock turned to him, hands outstretched in unmistakable invitation. The meld. It was a way to communicate without the words their captors seemed to distrust so much. The natives watched, uncomprehending, as Kirk slowly nodded. I trust you, his eyes said for him. I don’t understood exactly what you’re offering, fear it in my humanity because it is unknown. But I have learned to trust you, my almost friend. Go ahead. And warm fingers touched his face.

It was disorienting, at first. He felt dizzy, as if he were falling through a dark and endless space. And then, suddenly, he was standing on a featureless plain that was lit only by the tiny pinpricks of light from above. He squinted, looking up. Stars? Here, in Spock’s mind? He looked around, squinting in an attempt to make out something to focus on. But all was indistinct in this shadowy twilight, and all was silent. Where was he, and where was Spock?

And with the thought, a sudden light stabbed through the darkness, like a silent bolt of lightning. It outlined from behind the figure of a man who was walking steadily toward him. He waited while the man came closer and finally stood before him. “Captain?” the image of Spock asked.

Despite the strangeness of it all, Kirk got straight to business. They conferred, mind to mind, about their situation, the possibilities of rescue, the likelihood of an escape attempt working. Two officers, impersonally conducting Starfleet business. And yet Kirk wondered, even as he planned for the safety of his people, _What is this place? How can I be within Mr. Spock’s mind, he within mine, and still be touching, breathing, seeing, hearing? Is this barren world all there is to my first officer’s inner self?_ And then, with a shiver of apprehension, _How much of what I’m thinking can he preceive?_

Consultation completed, there was no need for them to linger. Spock looked at him with hooded eyes, then turned to walk back into the darkness. But as he turned, Kirk caught the faintest whiff of…something. It tantalized him, and he sniffed again. He should know this most delicate perfume, it carried with it memories…. A flowery fragrance…. He looked at the suddenly still form, just feet away. Incongruous. Why would Spock’s mind smell to him like hyacinths?

_Your mind translates the mental impressions you are receiving into sensory images with which you are familiar,_ Spock’s voice spoke. His image did not move, his head was turned down and to the side. His deep mind voice was muffled. _You see and smell and hear because your mind does not know any other way to describe this experience and still maintain psychic integrity._

And though the explanation made sense, so scientific and logical, just like a Vulcan and a science officer should sound, still the incongruous odor lingered in the air, filling Kirk’s lungs with sweetness, and taking him back to his boyhood….

…Where he always knew spring was coming by the hyacinths blooming next to the back steps. They filled him with expectation, and youthful happiness that soon they could run and play without heavy jackets, climb trees, skinny dip…. His mother carefully tended the flowers, and shared their first blossoming with her younger son. An arm around his shoulders, her smile at what they saw together…. And he had never been able to resist their scent, risking even the jeers and taunts of Sam and his playmates (“Look at Jimmy, what a pansy, stopping to smell the pretty flowers.”)

He stopped now, and looked all about him, at Spock’s back turned to him, a little bowed. At the darkness. The sweet smell was elusive now, barely detectable, wafting away. And suddenly, all the expectation he had felt as a child, all the excitement that had consumed him with his first step on the _Enterprise_ could not compare with the suspense which filled him now. Undefined. Tantalizing. Real. Waiting, waiting….

Far, far away, thunder rumbled within the meld, now blended with his memories of Iowa days. A spring thunderstorm was brewing here, its electric presence prickling at his skin, raising the hair on the backs of his hands. Rain was coming to fall upon the unlikely flowers that scented Spock’s darkness. Lightning flickered, illuminating a horizon not barren, but brooding over banked clouds, in this world where his mind, and the mind of his first officer, were joined together. For the very first time.

After that, Kirk was even more hopeful that he could expand the already encouraging relationship he had established with his first officer. The meld was just confirmation of what he had suspected all along; that Spock was much, much more than the Vulcan facade he willed others to see. But Kirk could only offer so much. It was Spock who must be the one to decide the extent of their friendship; how much of the thunder, and the sweetness within, would escape his strict controls.

Spock followed his captain on landing parties, on diplomatic assignments, into danger, everywhere that Starfleet sent them, and everywhere that Kirk led. The tenuous but unmistakable understanding between them grew with every passing day. And then came the evening when Kirk led his first officer across the threshold of the captain’s cabin, for the very first time, and he warily followed.

“Care for a drink, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked the stiffly standing Vulcan. He gestured at the array of beverages standing on the sideboard.

“I do not indulge in alcoholic beverages, Captain, as you know.” Spock’s hands were folded tightly behind his back. “However, if you have a nonfermented selection, that…would be sufficient…”

“Good,” Kirk enthused, and turned quickly to the business of pouring drinks to hide his slight unease. He had thought it unlikely that Spock would accept his invitation to play chess in the privacy of one of their quarters, and had been surprised when his first officer had agreed. Hesitantly, it was true, but agreed. And Kirk was pleased at this so small indication of trust between them. Spock was usually so formal, so absolutely correct in their dealings together. Sometimes it was frustrating. There had been times on the bridge when they had teased one another, almost smiled at one another, almost shared the comradeship that two humans would have developed by this time as a matter of course. But Spock never extended the same aura between them to off duty hours. A contradiction. Most beings let their hair down when they weren’t working. But then, Kirk had already discovered, Spock had his own distinct way of doing things.

He turned and indicated a chair while offering the fruit juice to Spock. He placed his own small brandy on the desk before walking around it for the chess set on the credenza behind. He picked it up and blew at the dust on the top level. “Sorry I’m not set up for this. Maybe I should get a little table, and some extra chairs, if….” He did not complete the sentence. It would be nice if they could relax together, enjoy the companionship of a game in the quiet of these rooms, instead of always in a rec room where, inevitably, a captain was on display. Sometimes, he just needed a little peace and quiet.

“I believe the desk will be an adequate substitute,” Spock said quietly, and carefully placed his glass next to Kirk’s. He began to remove the accumulated paperwork of command to make room on the surface. His movements were ultra precise, a study in economy, and Kirk could not help but watch. Spock’s eyes were trained intently downward, and he worked in silence, as Kirk had discovered he often did.

He began to feel a little awkward, just standing there with the set in his hands. Maybe this had been a mistake, and he should have taken Bones up on his offer of brandy and conversation or sought out Engineer Scott for the card game they had promised one another some day.

But then Spock deposited the last computer disc in the slot next to the terminal, obviously paused for a moment while he surveyed the clear surface for something else to move, and flicked a glance up at Kirk. He looked back down again quickly.

He’s a little nervous about this too, Kirk’s intuition suddenly told him. It’s possible no one has ever invited him to their quarters before. But I have, and even though I could tell he was a little uncomfortable with my suggestion, he said yes. If I’m trying to be his friend, he is trying to meet me halfway.

And there’s no damn reason, he told himself as he carefully placed the chess set on the desk surface, why either of us should feel awkward about this. We’re just two men thrown together by circumstance, united by our common careers and interests. And I need a friend. So does he.

Kirk slid into the chair behind the desk, brought the chess pieces out from a drawer, and began a conversation with his first officer. A slightly difficult at first, but ultimately satisfying conversation. They played three games, Spock drank Kirk’s entire supply of Andorian saava juice, and Kirk had the pleasure of seeing Spock’s eyes crinkle in what passed for a smile for him two times. They talked about the ship, mostly, their upcoming mission, new personnel who had transferred aboard. And when the hour grew late, they parted with little awkwardness.

So many other first times they had shared together….

…the first time he had ever held Spock in his arms, the Vulcan gasping for breath, trembling, and trying so hard to enforce controls so his pain would not show, the sickening green blood pouring, he cursing the slowness of the transporter and understanding with sudden clarity what it would mean to him for “Mr. Spock, best first officer in the fleet,” and his friend, to die….

…Hearing Spock say “yes” to the oft repeated request to join his captain for at least a day of shore leave, looking up incredulously into teasing brown eyes, sharing their leisure, seeing how Spock relaxed, laughing at him, laughing with him, in the subtle, understated language that Kirk could now understand as clearly as a shout, growing closer….

…That heart stopping, never to be forgotten first time when, his cock buried deep in a woman’s body, he had cried out his friend’s name, and meant it, meant it more than any word he had ever called in ecstasy before. And along with all the wonders that this new realization had brought, it had also started the struggle not yet over, the attempt to define himself and his sexuality all over again. He now loved a man. He was a lover of men. Despite the joys of his love affair with Spock, there were moments when the thought still disturbed him deeply. And they still hadn’t told McCoy, or anyone else, or acted on their vague talk of a more serious commitment. How much of that, Kirk wondered sometimes, was because he still hadn’t accepted what he now was….

He didn’t want to contemplate that now. Again he allowed his mind to pitch and roll away, looking for an antidote to his encroaching melancholy, finding….

…that first, incredible meld as lovers. Suspended in a beautiful golden glowing space, facing one another with no pretense between them. It hadn’t been what he expected. They’d exchanged not thoughts, not words, but all the emotional truth within their very souls. He had seen Spock throw his head back and smile, had heard him laugh for the very first time in his life. Had seen happiness and satisfaction settle onto his friend like rain on land parched for the smallest drop of moisture….

But the memories couldn’t go on forever. Reluctantly, Kirk returned to the here and now, to the reality of a hard mattress beneath his back and the long silence between them. He kept his eyes shut. He didn’t want to have to see the look in Spock’s eyes, didn’t want to hurt him this way.

For he was sure that Spock would be hurt. Melding was extremely important to his Vulcan lover. Part of his friend’s sexuality was bound up in that mental joining, in a way that Kirk probably did not completely understand. Telepathic races craved the contact of another mind in the same way that more physical beings needed the comfort of touch. And Spock had been deprived of such contact, mental and physical, for so long.

Ironically, their melds together as lovers were anything but the orderly, clinical exchange of information that Kirk had experienced with Spock before. No, they regularly indulged instead in what Spock somewhat uncomfortably labeled “emotional” melds, where they simply said _I love you, I cherish you, You are important to me_ in the language of the heart that needed no translation. It had been one of Kirk’s great joys to be able to touch the mind of his beloved friend, pour all of his love over him and through him, and experience the marvel of his quivering response. Spock had needed him so badly….

Now, they melded as easily as they kissed.

And still, he had whispered, “No.”

After a full minute had passed, he felt the gentle touch of Spock’s fingers on his face move, not to press upon the meld points, but sliding further down, along his cheek, then slowly over his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. A long, silent falling of flesh from his flesh.

Finally, they were touching no longer, and Kirk heard his lover shift against the mattress. Spock must be on his back now.

“Will you tell me why?” A whisper, choked. “Is it something I have….”

Spock’s automatic assumption of guilt, so absolutely typical, pushed Kirk into action. “No!” he interrupted forcefully, and rolled over onto his side. Spock had been staring up at the ceiling but now he turned against the pillow to meet Kirk’s gaze, “It’s nothing you’ve done, it’s me.” Bitter regret tinged his voice, and it trailed off. “Just me.” He opened his mouth to say more, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. An unseen hand settled over his chest and squeezed.

Then Spock took possession of his hands and brought them up against his chest. He took a deep breath, and an expression of great calm came over his face, stilling the emotion Kirk had seen momentarily flaring in the brown eyes. He said resolutely, “Jim, in the very first weeks of our relationship, you taught me something extremely valuable. You said that we must communicate if we were to succeed together. Do you remember? If I had not done so, not told you of my difficulties at that time, you would never have been able to help me assimilate the emotions I was finding so difficult to deal with. Now, please apply that valuable lesson to this situation.” His deep voice, so soft until this point, became strained with a hint of impatience. “Tell me what is wrong.”

Kirk sighed. “I know. I will. I just don’t want to hurt you.” He pulled his hands from Spock’s hold and sat up in the bed. He looked down at his lover. “Do you know what you do after we meld, especially when we meld after sex?”

Spock’s brow furrowed in confusion. “No, what?”

“You fall asleep like a baby.” Affection softened the words, and Kirk couldn’t help but reach out to gently stroke Spock’s cheek. “You look so darn peaceful, and I know you are. No wonder you’re exhausted. We fuck each other silly, and then you get your mind fuck, too.”

Spock stirred in protest.

“I know, I know,” Kirk said softly, still stroking the warm skin. “It’s vulgar, and I don’t really think of our melds like that. You know I don’t. I love melding with you. That’s not something I could possibly hide.”

“Then why will you not…”

Before the confusion in that beloved face, Kirk abruptly withdrew his hand and turned away. He looked down and focused fiercely on the shadows draped over the sheet. “Just because you fall asleep, doesn’t mean that I can! God, Spock, I’ve tried so hard!” He passed a hand over his face in frustration, then turned back to look at his lover. “A week ago, right after we left the Tristar Station, something changed. Couldn’t you feel it? The light in the melds, it got more intense. More…gold. Brighter. And the two of us, we were somehow…more solid.” His hands gestured in the air, and he clenched his teeth at the frustration of describing the insubstantial world of the meld in mere words. “I thought I had already shown you everything, emotionally, that was in me. That I had seen all of you. But there was more, there in that meld. A lot more.”

Spock nodded encouragement. “Yes. I believe that we are becoming even more attuned to one another. I thought it a natural consequence of the closeness that we have been experiencing.”

Kirk took a deep breath. “Me too. But afterwards…Spock, afterwards, it was like I was caught between two worlds. Not quite in the meld, not quite out of it. I was like that for hours, just…tingling. I couldn’t seem to pull out of it.”

Spock reached up and caught at his upper arm. His grasp was rough, his voice concerned. “Why did you not tell me? You are human. We do not know the complete consequences of our mental activity for you.”

Kirk covered the fingers with his own, and the bruising grip softened. “What,” he asked with a rueful smile, “and interrupt your peaceful sleep? Even getting you to stop snoring wasn’t enough incentive for that.” It was an old joke between them. Spock still denied snoring, Kirk still accused him of it, but now, the reference did nothing to defuse the tension between them.

The smile on Kirk’s face slowly faded, and his hand fell back to the bed. “I’m telling you now. At first I thought it was just a sort of mental ‘afterglow,’ and I almost enjoyed it. But I was exhausted the next day. And every time we’ve melded since then, it’s gotten worse, not better. I stay awake and stare at the ceiling, finally fall asleep about 0500. It’s almost worse than no sleep at all.”

Spock removed his hand from his lover’s arm and sat up in bed. “I have noticed your tiredness and thought it was connected with our physical exertions. I intended to speak of it to you tomorrow, or rather,” he glanced at the chronometer, “today.”

“Yeah. And Bones said something about it this evening when we had a drink. Now he’ll be watching me like a hawk.” Kirk drew in a deep breath. “I can’t go on like this, and you know it. I can function under emergency conditions without sleep for longer than most people, but not like this, day after day. I owe more than that to the ship, to my command. I don’t want to think of how I would react if there were a Red Alert.”

“Agreed. Such a situation is detrimental to your ability to command, not to mention your health.” It was the _Enterprise’s_ first officer who responded, in the analytical tone Kirk had heard hundreds of times on the bridge.

“So.” Kirk was vastly relieved that Spock was taking this so calmly, so…logically. Probably that incredible brain had already analyzed their situation, and had come up with a simple solution. He’d probably made way too much of this….

Kirk shifted on the mattress, drew his legs up to sit cross legged fully facing his lover. He placed his hands palm up on his knees. “What do we do?”

Spock broke eye contact and looked down. A long moment passed. Then he looked up again and said, in the toneless way that Kirk had learned long ago meant he was hiding great emotion, “I do not know.”

Kirk returned his intent stare. It took a while for the words to sink in, and for him to interpret the more than usual slump to the thin shoulders. “What do you mean, you don’t know? There’s got to be something you can do. Is there something going on in the meld between us that we can fix? Is there some way maybe to end it more sharply, cleaner, so that I can get out of it and sleep?” Before Spock’s uncertainty, the possibilities and alternatives seemed suddenly obvious.

“Jim, I…. You assume too much. I am far from an expert in this area. Do not assume that all Vulcans know everything about mental techniques, any more than all humans are fully knowledgeable about their own sexuality.” Spock’s voice became more dispassionate and controlled with every word. “However, I do know that melding is an instinctive action in Vulcans. We are guided in our youth by our parents in the basics, but we receive no further education unless we become Healers. What you are describing is a continuation of the mental resonances between us, even after the contact has been terminated. I have never heard of such a situation, but then, this is not a subject that is discussed among my people. I do not know how I could change the way we end the melds. It is like asking me to breathe through my ears instead of my nose and mouth. It is simply the way it ends.” He looked steadily at Kirk. “And it is quite possible that this…problem is caused by the fact that you are human, and I am…half human. Perhaps there is a deficiency on my part because of my heritage. I do not know.”

Kirk did not allow himself to respond to those simply stated words, it would have hurt his friend even more than all the hurt already apparent in the vulnerable eyes. But inside, he winced. He knew how proud Spock was of being Vulcan, and of how his friend had reached beyond all that he had been taught on that desert planet to make a relationship between them possible. Now, to have that relationship reveal inadequacies….

Kirk’s hands curled into fists, and he gazed down at them. His mind groped for answers. He refused to consider the possibility that the life they led together in that wondrous world was over. “What about Sarek and Amanda? How do they manage? And other couples of mixed race? Surely—”

“One does not ask,” Spock said austerely. His words sounded dead in the quiet room, losing themselves in the walls, the shadowed ceiling, the bedcovers that were the signs of their passion rumpled at the foot of the bed they shared. “It is quite possible that beyond the bonding link, my parents do not meld at all. As to other mixed race couples….” He took a harsh sounding breath. “Jim,” Kirk’s name sounded almost strange coming from those stiff lips, “there are few. Very, very few.”

Unstated, “And we are one of the few.” Again, Spock the anomaly, Spock the different, Spock the one who is not quite Vulcan. Spock, who cannot gain mental satisfaction with his lover. For one of the few times in his adult life, Kirk wanted to cry.

But Spock was retreating behind his Vulcan controls, his lifelong crutch and shelter, and again Kirk tried to control his overly emotional response. But he couldn’t simply walk down the path of inevitability that Spock was already treading. “Surely there must be something….”

“If you continue to experience trouble sleeping, even without mental contact between us, you can request assistance from Doctor McCoy.” Spock’s voice was as emotionless as on the first day they had met.

Despite himself, Kirk’s mouth twisted in distaste. “Right. That’s one hell of a way to tell him about us. Cause you know he’d poke and pry for answers, even if he had to make it official. ‘Bones, Spock and I are lovers, and, by the way, could you give me something so I can sleep?’” He laughed soundlessly, and restlessly shrugged his shoulders. Suddenly, he had to move, and in one moment he was up on his feet and pacing across the room. The air moving against his body reminded him that he was naked; the warmth of that air reminded him that he had turned the temperature of his quarters up ten degrees to accommodate his desert born lover. And then he remembered why he, who loved short sleeves and cool breezes, and the briskness of a chill morning, had been willing to make that sacrifice.

Kirk turned to look at Spock, still sitting stiffly upright in the bed. Was there a time when he would not have been able to see beyond the hooded eyes, the expressionless face, the still form so perfectly controlled? Had there ever been a time when he hadn’t been able to see the soul that no amount of childhood training and mature desperation could hide? To his practiced eye, Spock was trying very hard to look at their situation logically, containing an emotional response that, in the stiff and rigid precision that was its only expression, was painfully obvious. To him.

In the face of that pain, which he was causing, Kirk took a deep, steadying breath. “Is this it? Are you trying to say that we just shouldn’t meld anymore?”

Spock folded his hands in his lap, an abrupt, nervous gesture that spoke volumes. “No. It is possible that a period of adjustment will help our problem. But certainly we must abstain for some time. I will not hurt you further. Who knows the damage I may have already inflicted?”

“Spock, I said I couldn’t sleep, not that I’d been brain damaged.” Kirk was exasperated. He didn’t want Spock to accept this so easily. His lover’s retreat back into Vulcan control was unnerving. “Don’t be so self sacrificing.” Four swift strides brought him back to the side of the bed. He gripped a shoulder hard. “Listen, let’s just…go easy for a while. Not meld for maybe two weeks. That should give me some time to adjust and get back to normal. And we can finish this run out to the blasted Corrigan Colonies. Then we can try again and see what happens.”

Spock still did not look up at him. “Indeed. That is a most logical course of action. There is currently much to take your attention.”

“Spock,” Kirk admonished, and shook his shoulder. “You take my attention. We do. You know how important you are to me.” He knelt down on the floor next to the bed, put a hand to Spock’s chin, and forced them into eye contact. “Don’t you?”

The eyes that looked into his were hiding, blank and expressionless, like glass that let in light but had no image of its own. Kirk hadn’t seen that look in his lover’s eyes in a long, long time. “I am aware,” Spock said without inflection, “that you value my being. However, I am concerned for you. You should have told me of your difficulties as soon as you experienced them.”

Frustrated, Kirk pursed his lips. “Well, I’ve told you now.”

For a long moment they just looked at one another. Then Spock reached out and tugged at Kirk’s hand, and rolled back onto the mattress. “Come, if we are to expedite your sleep you cannot continue to kneel upon the floor.”

They ended up on the sides of the bed opposite to where they usually slept, but Kirk was disinclined to crawl over Spock to get to where he belonged. The air between them seemed very fragile; he knew that Spock had suffered an emotional shock that would be difficult to recover from, despite the illusion he maintained of disinterested control.

He reached out to wave down the light.

From the darkness, Spock said, “I am concerned about the engineering diagnostics. Lieutenant Dawson has made little progress pinpointing the problem.”

So. Spock would retreat into ship’s business. “Scotty thinks it might be a phantom image.”

“Nevertheless, I am concerned. With your permission, I will devote some of my time next shift to assisting the lieutenant.”

It wasn’t the tone so much as the words which seized Kirk’s heart. With your permission? Yes, lover, lying next to me in the darkness, with the evidence of our loving drying on the soft skin of your body, yes, you have my permission.

“All right,” Kirk said softly. “All right. Do it.”

“I will.” A long pause, filled with sounds of breathing. Spock was on his back, Spock was reaching for the blankets, Spock was preparing for sleep…“Good night.”

“Good night, Spock.” They had made love. They hadn’t melded. He should be able to sleep tonight. Beyond that, what else had happened here?

 

 

When Kirk awakened the next morning, he was alone in his bed. Not too unusual. Although he and Spock tried to share their off duty time together, early morning or late night meetings sometimes interfered. And his science officer was meticulous about overseeing experiments that took place around the clock in the dozen labs the _Enterprise_ boasted. No, it was not too unusual that Spock wasn’t here to give him a good morning kiss, or lay next to him, touching, as they waited for the alarm to go off.

Kirk swung his legs over the side of the bed, scratching his head and yawning. He stood, stretched, and debated whether to visit the head first or check the computer for messages. The insistent pressure which was forcing his cock half erect decided for him. He needed to pee.

While in the bathroom, he tried hard to keep his mind a blank. It wouldn’t do anybody any good, least of all himself, if he gave in to the depression that was waiting just around the corner from his current uncertain mood. And thinking through or remembering their problem, or last night’s conversation, wouldn’t help. He wasn’t being a bastard, Kirk told himself as he fiercely brushed his teeth. If anyone would understand, Spock would. The ship, and all the other lives she harbored, came first, always would. Spock just needed some time to adjust to realities. And besides, they would meld again in just two weeks. Right? A little abstinence was good for the soul. Right?

Kirk stood before the sink, undecided. There was still plenty of time before he was due on the bridge, and he felt restless. Maybe some exercise would be a good idea. He went to check on messages, and then to get some exercise tights and a robe.

There was an aerobics class being conducted in the gym for the benefit of first and second shift crew. Kirk slipped into a place in the back row and started some simple stretches before he joined in with the rest of the group.

Even since he and Spock had become lovers, he’d tried to pay more attention to his workouts. For a while, the long string of hazardous missions that the _Enterprise_ had been on had kept his tension high, his appetite strong, and his desire for exercise of any sort non existent. He’d seen the fine shape he’d kept his body in during the first years of their mission slip away. But now, Spock deserved a lover with a finely tuned body, and Kirk felt as if that was just the incentive he needed to regain what he used to be. After just a few months of workouts with his lover in the gym, and occasional attendance at this morning exercise class, he could feel and see the difference.

Kirk pushed his right arm out over his head and bent over, stretching. Exercising was basically boring. He always had that thought during his warm up. He much preferred working out with a partner in a specific contest with a winner. That way, he had an incentive to get him through the routine. But participating in this class had turned out to be entertaining as he observed the crewmembers who came and went.

He craned his head to see over the jumping bodies in front of him, knowing he would be diverted from his worried thoughts about Spock. There in the front row as usual were Lieutenant Brian Dawson, one of Scotty’s better engineering officers, and Ensign Irina Hunyady of sciences, panting next to one another as the instructor lead them all in an aerobic routine.

Kirk chuckled to himself and swung into step with the others. Panting next to one another was something Dawson and Hunyady probably did a lot of. He’d watched their romance blossom during the past two months and wondered how long it would last. Hunyady was tall and slender, with the graceful walk of an athlete. Her sparkling brown eyes frequently laughed at the lieutenant when he couldn’t keep up with her own aerobic endurance, but the laughter which filled the small workout room was never scornful, always kind and loving. Kirk thought that Hunyady was probably a very nice person.

And she had one hell of a backside. Kirk maneuvered his way a little to his left as they went through one exercise so that he could see. It looked terrific in the various tights Hunyady donned in the mornings, and Kirk always made sure he was somewhere behind her where he could watch her tight little ass jiggle its way through the class. That, he envied Dawson.

At first, Kirk had almost felt that he was betraying Spock when he indulged his voyeuristic tendencies so blatantly. But, hell, he’d always looked at women. Just because he had a male lover now didn’t mean he had to stop, did it? And so Kirk continued, getting a sort of defiant satisfaction each time he managed to get a spot that gave him just the right view.

The instructor called a halt, and they all started jogging in place, taking their pulse. Next to the brown haired Dawson, Lieutenant Resl’t was, as always, bending over to measure his heart rate from behind his knee. Resl’t was an Andorian, one of the fifty two non human crewmembers the _Enterprise_ had taken on almost four months ago in Starfleet’s drive to integrate the humans of the starships with other members of the Federation.

Ensign Hunyady’s laughter floated through the air. She was one of the few of them who had the breath to laugh. “Tan,” she addressed Resl’t, tossing her long auburn hair over her shoulder, “you know you’re supposed to keep moving.”

“I know that, Irina.” The lieutenant’s delicate voice was muffled a little since his head was bent over his legs. “But how am I sssupposed to jog with my hands on my legsss? I am Andorian, not a triple jointed Arcturan!”

Everyone laughed at the rejoinder, if a bit breathlessly, and a moment later the instructor called them back into action again. But Kirk was pleased to see how easily Hunyady had teased the blue skinned being. There had been very little trouble integrating the non humans with the humans of the ship, and now they all seemed to be one efficient _Enterprise_ crew.

Some might be surprised at the camaraderie that existed, but Kirk wasn’t. He’d always believed that the different races of the galaxy could learn to get along. At heart, he’d always believed in IDIC, even before he’d met Spock. Not, he thought, grunting to swing down and touch his toes, like some other trouble makers in the galaxy.

Like these stupid Eternists they were going to have to deal with, who lived on the Omega Corrigan colony. Omega had been settled by a group of…. Kirk frowned down at the floor. He wanted to say religious fanatics, but he forced himself to be charitable and to think “people with firm moral con victions” instead. There were several of their colonies dotting this far out section of the Federation. The Eternists would have been shocked to see the by play between Dawson, Hunyady, and Resl’t, and would have condemned him in the loud and abrasive manner that they were known for throughout the Federation for allowing it on his ship.

He was going to have trouble with the Eternists, he could feel it coming. He’d been worrying about it. The planetary priests had already notified Starfleet Command that they would deal with only white, human males during the negotiating sessions. They didn’t believe in interaction even among the different races of humanity, much less between human and non human. Sulu wouldn’t be able to be a part of that landing party team.

And even if he had been inclined to assign her, which he wasn’t, neither would Uhura, Kirk thought, grimacing. For double reasons. She was black, and she was a woman. Two strikes, according to the Eternists.

The class instructor now had them vigorously touching their toes with wide swings from side to side, but Kirk didn’t have any trouble thinking while he moved. He’d perfected the art of hard thought while doing something else a long time ago. Now, he felt his little bubble of amusement over watching Hunyady dissipate. He really didn’t want to deal with the Eternists. They suppressed women, they didn’t really believe in the Federation’s ideals, they undoubtedly would loudly condemn anything other than the man-on-top missionary position for sex….

Kirk straightened, breathing hard and flushing beyond his exertions. He stared at Hunyady’s back, not even feeling the temptation to let his gaze slip lower. What would they think of him and Spock….

He would much rather just talk with the people on the other Corrigan Colony, the scientific community that had settled Alpha. They were more his kind of people, and Spock’s. Scotty had told him good things about the modest manufacturing plant there that was producing important engineering components, and Spock had high praise for the small Corrigan University. The Federation could benefit from development like that on the far reaches of its borders. Kirk shook his head. What did the Eternists contribute but dissension and distrust?

The exercise class ended, but the small depression that had grown during it followed Kirk when he returned to his quarters to shower and dress.

He tried to cheer himself up as he washed. Mornings were often a very satisfying time of day. Sometimes he and Spock made love; lots of times they just talked. He wished Spock hadn’t had to leave this morning, so that they could have talked. Nothing serious, or about the melds, just the usual by play that they both seemed to enjoy. Like a few days ago, when Kirk had laughingly accused his lover of finally letting his hair down, and Spock had pretended not to understand the obscure reference. Spock had actually smiled by the end of that ridiculous exchange, and Kirk had had to try hard not to walk toward breakfast grinning.

He pulled a uniform from his closet, walked over to the bed, and began to dress. Seeing Spock smile, even his small, restrained smile, was definitely one of the benefits of their new relationship. It was worth so much, even bending over and retrieving briefs from where they had been flung on the floor the night before, or having to strip the sheets from the bed practically every morning before his yeoman arrived. God knew what she thought, but a yeoman wouldn’t be a captain’s yeoman if he or she weren’t discreet. Kirk stuffed the material down the recycler, and realized that his uncertain mood was firming into contentment with every thought he had of him and Spock together. Maybe Spock would be at breakfast, and he could reassure himself that his lover wasn’t too upset.

With a final brush to his hair, and a tug to his tunic, Kirk was out the door.

 

 

Kirk breakfasted with Lt. Commander Giotto, the head of Security for the _Enterprise_ , and Lt. Commander Fraser, head of Maintenance. Neither Spock nor Bones ever showed up.

On the bridge, Uhura was humming when he exited the turbo lift, and favored him with a smile. Sulu was at the helm, but Lieutenant Audrey Dillow was manning navigation. Seated at the Science station, Chekov was softly speaking into the intercom.

“Good morning, everyone,” Kirk said, as he said most days. He relieved Lieutenant Qaddoumi with a nod, and settled in for the morning’s routine.

After he had scanned reports from the previous two shifts, initialed the typical morning reports, and approved Qaddoumi’s log notations, Kirk made his way to the upper level.

“Busy, Mr. Chekov?” he asked quietly.

The younger man depressed a button on the console, swiveled his chair around and pulled the comlink from his ear. The ensign had recently taken to using the ‘link in the same way that Spock and Uhura did, but Kirk had no illusions that his skill in interpreting raw data rivaled that of the more senior officers. In his opinion, Chekov was using it as a stage prop more than anything else.

“Sair, I am attempting to assist Mr. Spock and Lieutenant Dawson in Engineering. They are trying to pinpoint the diagnostic anomaly.”

Kirk’s eyes narrowed in concern. “Has it gotten worse? Do they know what it is?”

“No, sair,” Chekov responded. “It is de same as yesterday. Just a ghost. Intairmittent, like we hev hed before, with no real problem. Engineer Scott said dat nuttink vill come of dis, but Mistair Spock vanted to check it out and help Mistair Dawson.”

So, Spock and Dawson were in the bowels of the ship. Kirk knew what Dawson was doing, following orders. If Scotty had thought for a minute that the ghost was anything serious, he himself would have been hot on the trail of a misbehaving component. That was just the way Scotty was.

But what was Spock really doing? Hiding? Certainty followed the question. Kirk knew for sure that Spock had retreated to the privacy of the mostly empty engineering decks to regain his composure after last night’s conversation. That always thinking Vulcan brain of his had planned the safe haven right away. For a long moment, Kirk stared sightlessly at one of the displays over the science viewer, imagining making his way to the Engineering hull and talking to Spock. Maybe offering reassurance?

Nodding in dismissal to Chekov, Kirk found his way back to the command chair. Inwardly he sighed. He could definitely see himself gathering any one of the female lovers from his past into his arms and offering them comfort. An easy, natural thing to do. He had done just that before, and more than one had cried against his shoulder. He knew how to provide for that kind of need. But what to do for his strong, silent male lover, the one who meant so much more to him than all the others? They were both still so new to one another, really. Despite their years of friendship, this kind of intimacy was new. Kirk had no practice with loving another man, and even if he had, he had the impression the experience would probably mean nothing anyway. Spock was so different from anybody else.

This time Kirk allowed the sigh to escape. He placed one elbow on the console, chin in his hand, and stared at the viewscreen. This was really frustrating. He felt the need to do something for his lover, but what? He couldn’t imagine embracing Spock, or kissing him in reassurance somewhere on the twenty second deck of the Engineering hull. That wouldn’t do a thing for his quiet friend. And explaining all over again wouldn’t do shit. With Spock’s near photographic memory, he could already recall every word they’d exchanged last night. He wasn’t deaf, and he wasn’t stupid. Just hurting, and taking the time he needed to assimilate the hurt.

Kirk settled back into his command chair. So, do nothing, at least for now. Wait for some clues as to what Spock might need from him, and try to provide it. Whether that was distance, or intimacy, or conversation. After all, he’d been the one to start all this with his damn reaction to the meld. The least he could do was…what?

The morning went downhill from there. Uncertainty had never been Kirk’s strong suit, and it showed. A yeoman dropped a compslate on the deck, shorting it out with a dull popping sound. Kirk had to resist lifting his eyes heavenward. Dawson come up to the bridge Engineering station for a while, pushed a few buttons, then silently left. Chekov’s occasional comments into the science station intercom took on the quality of a monotonous drone, and Kirk consigned him to perdition, mentally, several times.

But then McCoy stepped out of the turbolift and proclaimed, “Well, I know it’s early for your lunch, but I’ve got time now. Want to eat?”

Kirk knew when to clutch at a lifesaver when the waters were getting deep. “Sure. Mister Sulu, you have the con.” He didn’t ask what Sulu’s lunch plans had been. The prerogatives of command.

They had taken on additional provisions at the Tristar Station where they had last stopped, and the pastrami sandwich on rye that Kirk bit into tasted surprisingly genuine. “Hey,” he mumbled around a mouthful, “this is really good.”

McCoy looked up from an enormous Chittwithering salad. “Might taste good, but you know it’s not good for you.”

“Huh,” Kirk offered, and swallowed. He indicated the mass of greens before his friend. “How anybody can eat that, I don’t know. God, Bones, those things actually move.”

“Not after you spear them,” the doctor said with relish, and he proceeded to demonstrate. “Besides, they’re not actually alive. The movement’s just a by product of the soil they’re grown in. I read about it once….”

They settled in comfortably to casual conversation. Of all the people on the _Enterprise_ , Kirk had known Bones the longest. Now he was a very safe, very sure haven of predictability. There were no surprises in the relationship between him and Bones. He felt himself relaxing in the friendly, undemanding warmth McCoy offered.

They were just finishing up when McCoy too casually inquired, “So, still no word from Starfleet on the inspection report, huh?”

Kirk frowned at his friend from over the rim of the glass of iced tea he was drinking. “Don’t you think you’d have heard about it if we had?”

“Wellll,” McCoy drawled, “that depends. A good inspection report deserves a little publicity. Maybe even an extra special shore leave somewhere.” He eyed the captain speculatively. “But a report with problems might explain how grumpy you were looking up on the bridge. You already told me you weren’t happy with the first draft they sent you.”

No one had ever said the < _Enterprise’s_ CMO was not perceptive. It had been a miracle that he and Spock had been able to keep their new relationship a secret from him for so long. Kirk carefully placed his glass on the table and patiently shook his head. He tried to keep his exasperation in check. “No, Bones, we haven’t received the Mid Mission Review report yet. Any day now. And when we do, it will be a good one.” He knew his voice sounded certain. “Admiral N’Kara’s a reasonable man. He’ll understand why I wanted the changes I suggested.”

“Ummmm,” McCoy replied noncommittally, looking down at his plate. “Maybe.” He looked back up. “You prepared just in case things don’t work out the way you want?”

“Bones,” Kirk protested, spreading his hands out wide against the edge of the table. “You’re not being very helpful. Why the hell shouldn’t it work out the way I want?”

“Methinks the captain doth protest too much,” McCoy said softly. He leaned in across the table, obviously preparing to speak, but the sound of a voice over the ship wide intercom forestalled him. “Sickbay to Doctor McCoy. Doctor McCoy, please report to sickbay.”

“Oh, damn,” he muttered. “I bet Laramie’s pressure’s falling again.” He stood up abruptly, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and turned to go. “Talk to you later.” He paused by the intercom on the wall to acknowledge the summons before striding briskly out of the room.

“Oh, sure, Bones,” Kirk muttered into his plate. “You’ve just been a terrific help.” First Spock, then the Corrigan Colonies, now Bones reminding him one more time of the long awaited inspection report. All of them worries, all of them temporarily suspended with no solution in sight. Great.

He made sure to keep himself busy the rest of the afternoon. They would need to have a briefing on the colonies sometime soon, and although he normally would have asked Spock to prepare it, today Kirk sat at the Science console for a while and extracted information from the library computer. It was something he hadn’t had to do since his own days as first officer, and now he found it a pleasant exercise. Later in the shift, Sulu asked for his opinion about a new helm component Scotty had recommended, and they ended up requisitioning it from Supply and testing it out. The recalibration required some delicate adjustments, and several attempts to get it right. Both of them spent time under the console. When Kirk emerged the second time, it was almost time for shift change, and he was smiling with the simple pleasure of finding something new that worked. He looked up to find his first officer was standing next to the command chair, looking at him.

“Good afternoon, Captain.” Spock was always impeccably polite.

Kirk couldn’t help himself, his smile broadened. “Spock, ‘bout time you showed up,” he mock accused. “I thought you’d forgotten where the bridge was.” They had always teased one another. Now it was a safe way to communicate in uncertainty.

“Rather unlikely, sir.” Spock paused, looked down at the floor. Kirk’s smile faded, and he carefully observed the way his friend’s hand tightened on the compslate he was holding by his side. The silence lengthened. Spock looked back up at him, drew a breath, and continued, “I have made the journey to the _Enterprise_ bridge approximately 7,000 times over the past fourteen years, and even Pavlov’s dogs could not fail….”

Kirk held up an interrupting hand. Every officer on the _Enterprise_ would have labeled Spock’s rejoinder as teasing in kind, although it might confuse others who were not so aware of the ship’s dynamics. Did only he notice how this particular reply had been forced from his friend’s lips, the tone strained?

“All right, Spock, all right.” Kirk walked back to the command chair, tugging to pull his tunic back into place. The happiness he had felt on seeing Spock again quickly evaporated. Back to business. It was safest. “Did you find anything with Dawson?”

“Regrettably, no.” Spock’s voice was perfectly normal as he reported. Apparently, he too found a haven in his duties. “The diagnostic reading fluctuates, making determination of the exact cause difficult. I have concluded that it would be illogical to spend more time on the malfunction, unless and until more precise data manifests itself. However, I am concerned. I do not believe this is a mere ‘ghost’ we are dealing with. In my opinion, we may have a genuine problem.”

Kirk was instantly concerned. “Have you talked with Scotty?”

Spock’s lips pressed together for an instant. “Mr. Scott and I have a difference of opinion on this subject, Captain. However, as there is nothing that can be done about it at this time, it would be illogical to insist upon my own interpretation.”

“Illogical” twice in almost as many sentences. Spock was really falling back on some old defenses. Intently, Kirk looked into his lover’s eyes. Spock was staring off at some point over the captain’s left shoulder, but he felt the intensity of the gaze, and shifted his eyes to meet it.

They never spoke personally on the bridge. It was an unwritten rule they had never discussed. But now, Kirk’s eyes asked, “How are you?” and he spoke to his lover, not his ever efficient first officer.

Spock swallowed hard, but he did not look away. There was a very, very small softening of his features, and a wistful look that darted into and then out of the brown eyes. Minor changes in a supposedly expressionless face that still spoke volumes to Kirk.

But then Spock dropped his head and examined the floor. He murmured, “If you will excuse me, Captain, I must attend to my duties,” and turned to ascend to the upper level of the bridge.

Kirk watched the slender figure ascend the steps and walk over to the Science station. _Give him time, Kirk thought. Let him work this through his own way. He’s a grown…Vulcan, for God’s sakes, and all of this emotion must be such a shock to his system. Show him that you trust him, trust our relationship to hold through this problem. Let him rely on his own masculine strengths._ With a sigh, Kirk turned his attention back to the viewscreen. It was harder than he thought it should have been.

Just minutes later, second shift relieved them. Riding down in the turbolift, Sulu and Uhura invited Kirk to attend a showing of a holofilm they had picked up from the Tri star station. “You, too, Mr. Spock. I think you might enjoy it,” Uhura kindly offered.

Spock inclined his head. “I thank you for your invitation, Lieutenant. However, there is an experiment in the bio engineering lab that will require my full attention this evening. As a matter of fact,” his attention subtly shifted to include Kirk, “the entire night. I do not anticipate sleeping at all.”

The two younger officers murmured in sympathy but didn’t press. Kirk gracefully accepted the invitation for himself.

As they had so many times before, he and Spock stopped before the door to the captain’s quarters. Now was the time to make plans for the evening, to discuss last minute ship’s business; lately, to nod toward the interior and wordlessly ask for a kiss. This evening, Kirk asked softly, “You okay?” It was the most he would allow himself.

“Yes. I am functional.” Spock kept his head down.

“I didn’t ask that.” The words escaped Kirk’s mouth too quickly. “I asked if you were okay. Don’t pretend that you don’t know what I mean. You’ve been avoiding me all day. I’m worried about you.” Some of Kirk’s frustration leached out into his voice.

Spock’s head came up. He said, a little desperately, “Please, Jim. I appear to need…some time. Some space. I am aware that I am acting in a slightly illogical manner, but it would be easier, if you did not…push.”

Kirk sighed. There was that word again. He leaned harder on the hand that was splayed against the bulkhead next to his door. “All right. Are you really going to be attending to an experiment all night, or is that just an excuse?”

“There is truly an experiment, Jim,” Spock hastily reassured. Then he added, more slowly, “and, to be truthful with you, it is also an excuse. It would be difficult for me, to sleep with you….” His voice trailed off. Then, “Can you understand?”

Kirk searched the strong lines of his lover’s face. Not beautiful, not even handsome by many people’s standards, but so very, very precious. A life, and a soul, that had become priceless to him. “I’ll try.”

For another moment, they stood there in the corridor, awkwardly, not knowing what else to say to one another in this public place, the space between them yawning wide. Then Kirk straightened, sketched the ghost of a smile, and said, “See you tomorrow at breakfast?”

Later, Kirk found that he couldn’t sit still for the film after all. He discovered Scotty reading engineering journals in his office. The chief engineer waved his hand in the air when asked about the problem that concerned the first officer.

“Naught to worrit aboot, Captain,” he reassured. He actually patted the desk in front of him. “She’s in bonnie fine shape. Just a kickin’ up her heels a wee bit. Mr. Spock’s a good mon, but ah think ah know mah own engines.” Mr. Scott’s accent was always thicker when he was defensive.

“What about Dawson?” Kirk queried. “He’s one of your better men, isn’t he? What did he think?”

“Dawson?” Scott asked, drawing back and acting surprised that Kirk would even think of inquiring about the junior officer’s conclusions. “He’s a wee fine engineer, but he’s nae ready yet for a ship of his own. He couldna find a malfunction that’s nae there to be found, Captain.”

It was all he could get out of Scotty, and Kirk left him still frustrated, and worried.

That highly unsatisfactory state of affairs continued for the next four days. Kirk worried about the ship. He worried about the Corrigan Colonies, viewing the necessary contact with the bigoted Eternist group with more and more distaste. He worried about the now overdue inspection report from Starfleet command, concerned about how the first draft was being revised. In the < _Enterprise’s_ favor?

And he worried about Spock, who acted guarded and withdrawn and found projects which took him all over the ship. Never had the science labs been so meticulously monitored or executive duties so carefully fulfilled. Kirk had been concerned that Spock would not take the news about the melds well, but he hadn’t thought that the light which was their own special relationship would be shuttered so definitely. No more shared looks across the bridge, no more comforting companionship over meals, no more tingling expectation as they walked down a corridor together that soon they would be in each other’s arms. Nothing at all, since Spock simply wasn’t around to share anything with him.

Nobody else noticed a thing, but his lover’s retreat was as obvious as a supernova to the sensitized Kirk. Spock was sad. Of that Kirk was sure. And he was also fairly sure that Spock was still coping with the blow that “no melding” had made to his Vulcan pride. Being a proud man himself, Kirk could understand the reaction, although he tended to swagger in overdone braggadocio to conceal any hurt. Spock reacted in the opposite way, by pulling in instead of pushing out. Kirk let him.

But he felt at war with himself. His intellect told him to let Spock work this out in his own way, and he was determined to honor his lover’s request to give him “some time.” Spock was a male, and a Vulcan. Kirk felt that all of the well trodden paths from his former relationships led him nowhere now. The old rules of behavior didn’t apply here, he told himself; even though they felt right, they weren’t right. And in all of his uncertainty, it was probably better to leave Spock alone, instead of risking doing something that would make things between them even worse. It was actually easier to do nothing, and that made Kirk feel a little guilty.

For there was another part of Kirk that whispered for him to do something completely different: to wrap his arms around the thin form that he had grown to love, and offer comfort. The tiny voice told him to touch and let the warmth of two bodies holding help to heal the wounds he had inflicted. And his soul murmured, “You’re hurting too, share it.”

But something held him back. Kirk listened to his mind instead of to his heart or to his soul. He stayed away from Spock, and Spock stayed away from him. It was frustrating. More than once Kirk wondered if what he was really witnessing was the disintegration of the love he had hoped would last forever. He told himself he wasn’t, but still, he wondered.

He spent the rest of his time cursing his own inadequate human physiology that had made the melds too much for his system to bear, and created this estrangement between them.

On the fourth night alone, his body betrayed him. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to control a sudden, run away arousal. He was chagrined, and tried to chastise himself. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. Couldn’t he take a little abstinence? He’d certainly had enough of it before he and Spock had become lovers. But for some perverse reason, now that Kirk knew Spock wouldn’t be walking through their connecting bathroom doors, he ached with a fierce, yearning desire. His cock was rock hard, and he was already breathing in short, sharp pants. Though he kept his hand stubbornly curled among the blankets on the bed, he wanted to touch himself so much. No. He wanted Spock to touch him. He desperately wanted to feel the warmth of those long fingers wrapping around his hardness, wanted to see Spock’s dark head kissing his way down the center of his chest, the way Spock always did before sliding his lips and tongue….

Stop it! Kirk told himself. This wasn’t doing him any good. All right, so he missed being in bed with Spock. But giving in to purely adolescent desires wouldn’t bring him back. And besides, what they had together was so much more than just the physical….

And then Kirk thought about their melds, as he had been thinking about them all day. Crystal clear in his mind was the light, the brilliant colors, the image that was Spock reaching out to him, the image that was Kirk responding, the two of them taking the colors of their love and mixing them together to create a whole new palette of light. The way it felt to say, “Look, here I am, this is what I feel for you.” The way it felt to hear the deep mind voice say, “Look, I am here for you, see all that you mean to me.”

Joining with Spock in their emotional melds of love had been like tending a garden in the desert, seeing it bloom in the gentle spring rains, then looking down to see that he himself had been bedecked in blossoms.

He thought about that for a long time, his arousal slowly subsiding, his breaths coming more easily now as he slipped into memory, and then into sleep.

Where he dreamed. 

_They were wrapped around each other, Spock’s warmth pressed up as close as possible. The focus of the dream was so tight, Kirk couldn’t see his lover’s face, could only see the skin of the neck where his lips were kissing, licking, tonguing all around the way he knew Spock liked it._

_His hand moved down between their bodies, and he grasped the hard cock that Spock insisted on calling penis. He felt the twin ridges with his thumb and, with the perversity of dreamers, although he didn’t move from his task of creating a giant love mark, he could see the cock now too._

_God, it was big. So long, so thick. Angry looking, with the double ridges swollen out almost grotesquely. Somewhere, a voice very far away told him that this wasn’t really Spock he was looking at, Spock didn’t really look like this, this was someone, something else. A flash of fear and uncertainty stabbed through him. If this wasn’t Spock, who was it? And how could he possibly take this…weapon of flesh…within his body? It would hurt like hell!_

_Then the fear subsided, within the dream he felt it twist and turn around within him, changing into something entirely different. Of course. Yes! Eagerly he rolled upon his back, spread his legs, tugging at the cock within his hand. Somehow his perspective changed, and he could clearly see that enormous cock poised above him. Its glistening tip just touched the moist pink lips that were now open between his spread legs. Kirk wrapped those legs around his lover’s hips and urged him down, and in. Ahhh! This was how it felt! This was how it felt to have your lover within you, rocking against you, feeling him move with sharp pressure against your clitoris, knowing the greater weight pressed against your smaller body. All Kirk’s fear melted away into pleasure. He wasn’t afraid of this Spock/not Spock lover now. Their new bodies were made for this. The enormous bulk that was this new creature filled him up, felt wonderful. Perhaps, he should let him live…perhaps, he should let his lover stay a man…._

_He shook the stray thought away. Should he try to see the face of this transformed Spock? Maybe if he moved up somehow…._

_And then his lips were kissing up his lover’s chest, even while he still felt the gentle rocking that was pushing within him. There, a taut green nipple filled his mouth. God, how he loved to suck nipples, and breasts! Now, the softness of this one pushed against his cheek as he rubbed his face up and down against it. He tongued all around, and nuzzled his face into the pliant curve of the mounded breast. Above him, he could hear his unseen lover take in a sharp breath, and then breathily moan, “Yesssss….”_

_Yes, he was good at this. He could make a woman moan in ecstasy just by paying long attention to these little peaks. He returned now to Spock’s nipple, and sucked it, and as much of the soft breast as he could, into his mouth. His lover’s hand came up to entwine in his hair, and Kirk knew Spock was really liking this. Dear God, how he loved to give Spock pleasure._

_But giving wasn’t enough, he needed to take, too, and so suddenly he was driving within the soft, clinging folds of the body beneath him. Being inside of Spock always felt like this, so wonderful with the heat of Vulcan’s fire wrapped around him. Even here in Spock’s woman’s body, and not the tight fitting ass that drove him crazy, Kirk felt his arousal begin to peak because of the warmth. It meant satisfaction, belonging, love now. He’d never be satisfied with a cooler body again. No, No, No, he chanted, in time to his thrusting, No, No, No, no one else ever again, no other cunt, no other body, no other mind for him, never again, ever again, ever again…._

_The rhythm of the chant changed. Doubt crowded out certainty. Never again? his mind asked. His balls began to tighten, his cock swelled and stiffened in preparation for the final thrust that would give completion, but he didn’t want to come now! Coming meant never again! Coming meant he’d pour all of himself out! What would be left? But he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting forward, again in rhythm to No, No, No, though now he was wailing in primal terror as he faced certain loss of identity even as electric pleasure stalked closer and closer. He fought it, tried to stop this ancient rhythm in which he was caught, but his climax rushed to fill him with tingling as he thrust again, and he knew the fear, and the joy, that never would he ever know anyone else but Spock, and he thrust again, and again, and he cried, No, No, No, No, No!!!_

Kirk jerked awake and upright in bed with his cry still sounding in his ears. He gasped in a huge breath, and then another, and tried to still his trembling. God almighty, what a dream! He felt disoriented, and looked around the darkened room, blinking. The chronometer said 0625. Almost time to get up. He looked down at his lap, where his hand was still wrapped around his rapidly softening cock. Cock and hand were both wet with cum. Little splatters of it were on his thighs. A wet dream, the first he had had since he and Spock had become lovers.

Slowly, he relaxed his tight grip, and watched as his prick flopped back against the crease of his upper leg. His heart wasn’t thudding quite so painfully now. The echoes of his cry in the night had all been absorbed by the blank walls of his quarters, and it was deathly quiet. No soft breathing of a lover at his side. Male or female. Shit! That had been the strangest dream!

Abruptly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and said strongly, “Alarm off.” He didn’t want to think about it. Time to get dressed. He headed for the shower.

 

 

The next day, Kirk found himself staring across a briefing room table at his first officer. The _Enterprise_ was due to arrive at the Corrigan Colonies in just twenty more hours, and so Kirk had called several officers together to discuss the mining dispute which had come between the sister outposts.

A part of Kirk’s mind, the part that he had begun to train at Starfleet Academy, and then honed through years of learning to command, listened to Lieutenant Sulu drone on about the history of this sector of space. The rest of his mind rested gently over the man seated across from him. Spock was carefully looking at Sulu, but that was all right. He didn’t want to meet Spock’s eye now. He wanted to just look at him. His eyes wandered from the upswept eyebrows and the soft, sweet lips, down to the narrow shoulders, and the chest. They lingered there. Beneath the velour shirt, Spock’s chest was covered with hair. And flat. Kirk had rested his head there, many times, and had often been disconcerted when he did not hear the steady thump, thump of a human heartbeat. But he had taken comfort from the strength of that chest, had run his fingers through the hair growing there, and teased about the differences between them. He liked Spock’s chest. But in the dream, it had been different. Did he really want to change Spock into a woman?

Profoundly disturbed by the thought, Kirk shifted his attention back to the briefing. Sulu was still talking. There were times when his enthusiasm rivaled Chekov’s, although it was tempered with a maturity the other still lacked. But they were both good officers. The _Enterprise_ had the best. The best CMO, the best engineer, the best…first officer. Kirk’s gaze returned to Spock, who was still giving Sulu all his attention. His head was turned to the side, exposing the strong column of his neck, and stretching the black band of his shirt across the base of his throat. Unbidden, the last time he had touched Spock intimately sprang to Kirk’s mind. He had sucked hard at the base of that neck to leave a love mark, perhaps because he had known what was going to happen next, and he had, subconsciously, wanted to lay claim to his lover. Was the mark still there? Sometimes, Spock entered a light healing trance to erase a bruise which Kirk enthusiastically left higher than the uniform’s concealing collar. Had he done so now? Or did the image of Kirk’s lips still linger?

After the briefing, Spock was among the first to disappear. Kirk detained Scotty to ask about the engine diagnostics, but the Engineer reported that the ‘ghost’ had not reappeared.

When Kirk turned to go, Lieutenant Dawson was blocking his path. “Sir, if you have a minute….”

“Yes, Lieutenant, what is it?”

“Sir, I’d just like to thank you for putting Irina, I mean, Ensign Hunyady in the new training program. She’s a very capable person, and I know you won’t be disappointed in her performance.”

Kirk stopped in the act of turning toward the door. The platitude that had first sprung to his lips died a strangled death. He gave Dawson his full attention. “What training program, Lieutenant?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“The one that Mister Spock has set up for some of his Science department people. They’ve been training for a regular bridge rotation.” Dawson showed no puzzlement; he must have thought the subject had simply slipped the captain’s mind.

For a moment Kirk just stared at Dawson, his mind in a turmoil, his heart aching. Would Spock take their estrangement this far? Was he this hurt? Kirk felt as if the bottom had just dropped out of his world. Before they were lovers, before even they had become good friends, there had been the steadying reassuring presence of the “best first officer in the Fleet” standing beside him on the bridge. That special chemistry between them had always been there, right from the start, and had molded them into a successful command team. Was Spock intending to deny them even that?

But then, thankfully, his whirling thoughts subsided, Kirk began to think rationally again, and he remembered. They’d had a conversation when the first draft of the report had come in. Spock had tried to calm him down, and suggested that a training program like this one might be a good idea. Something about needing to find back ups other than Chekov for the science station on the bridge, because of the frequent times that Spock was called away from the station to attend to duties as first officer. Now it looked like his first officer had taken matters one step further.

Of course, as always, it was hard to dispute Spock’s logic. And it was the first officer’s job in the normal course of ship’s operations to deal with such personnel matters. Kirk always gave his department heads free rein with their own people. Still, Spock would normally have consulted with him on this….

And then another, more emotional, image crowded out his calm considerations. Ensign Hunyady? Or some other, anonymous figure in blue, trying to replace Spock on the bridge? Kirk’s stomach muscles contracted at the thought. Impossible!

But he couldn’t express such thoughts to Dawson. Kirk tried to school his face into a bland expression, and said, “We’re always in need of good people on the bridge, Lieutenant. If Mister Spock has picked Ensign Hunyady, I’m sure she’ll be an asset.”

Dawson nodded. “Yes, she will be. She’s having her first paper published in the _Journal of Astrophysics_ next month. I think Commander Spock is pleased with her work.”

Kirk remembered that she had received a relatively glowing evaluation at the last quarterly review, unusual from the demanding first officer. He’d even teased Spock about it. But he didn’t want to stand here trading enthusiasms with Lieutenant Dawson about a junior officer. Enough.

“Yes,” Kirk started walking to the briefing room door, and Dawson walked next to him to continue the conversation Kirk wished hadn’t been started in the first place. He cast about for a way to end, or change the subject. Well, the engines were on his mind anyway…. “You worked on that problem we had with diagnostics a few days ago. What did you think?”

Dawson’s brow furrowed as they walked down the corridor. “I’m not sure, sir. I tend to agree with Mister Spock that there’s really something wrong there. But I spent two whole days on it and couldn’t pinpoint a thing.” He looked at Kirk a little warily. “And Mister Scott’s just dismissed it. I’m…I’m not so sure we should have. I asked Mister Scott to pursue it himself, but….” Dawson lifted his shoulders. Scotty probably had not taken kindly to the slur on his engines when he was convinced a problem did not exist.

It was clear that Dawson was warily treading around the disagreement between Spock and Scott, but neither had he backed down from his own opinion.

Kirk looked at him with new respect as they paused before the turbolift. Scotty was a difficult person to cross. Kirk wondered what had been exchanged in the Engine Room when Dawson reported in with his findings. It still worried Kirk that the two officers he trusted most concerning the heart of his ship were at odds over such an important issue. Was it just because of his relationship with Spock that he was still worried about the situation, despite Scotty’s reassurances? And was that why he had taken the probably improper step of speaking to a junior officer who had corroborated the opinion of his lover?

“Well, keep the situation monitored, Lieutenant,” he ordered, unnecessarily. Dawson nodded, Kirk stepped into the just arrived turbo car, and the conversation was over. But he took a growing disquiet about the engines with him.

When he arrived on the bridge, Chekov was manning the science station again. Great. Was he going to be reduced to ordering his own first officer to show up for his assigned shift on the bridge? Maybe this training business was more than it appeared on the surface….

His uneasy mood followed him the rest of the day, through a lunch with Scotty that he barely tasted, more helm alterations with Sulu, a brief communication with the two Corrigan planetary leaders informing them of the < _Enterprise’s_ arrival the next day. Then on to change of shift, and a long, aggravating dinner with Bones. His old friend started talking about the damned inspection report again, and Kirk just wasn’t up to his poking and prying. “Damn it, Bones, leave it be!” he almost snarled, and then spent the rest of their meal trying to smooth over the physician’s hurt feelings.

Until finally, he strode with the vigor of all sorts of suppressed emotions through the sliding door of his cabin. The first thing he noticed was that the automatic lights were already on. He tensed, and glanced swiftly about his office area. No one there. Then how…?

He moved slowly to the grill separating the office from the bedroom. Before he reached the doorway, he could see the figure lying in the dim light on his bed. Spock.

His lover was reclining on his back. One hand was flung over his head against the pillow, and one knee was drawn up. Spock’s boots were standing on the floor, carefully arranged next to the nightstand, where he always put them. He was wearing his regulation black t shirt, and was staring at the ceiling. He didn’t stir, even though he must have heard Kirk come in.

The dim light, the shadows falling on the quiet form, the utter silence as Kirk quietly moved to stand in the doorway, all lent a sense of unreality to the scene. For a moment the room spun, his stomach lurched, and Kirk wanted to deny what he saw. Was this really Spock lying on his bed, or was it all just a trick of the mind? It was almost easier to believe that, than the truth. The truth which told him this was a living breathing being whom he loved, another man whose cock he touched, whose cock he kissed, whose cock he had felt in the inner recesses of his body. Something inside of him shivered. What was a man doing in his bed, he who had loved so many women?

But he beat back the doubts which lived just below the surface of his conscious thoughts. Satisfaction took up the space. Finally, Spock had come to him.

But when the long figure on the bed did not move, and the silence between them was not broken by the deep voice that had found a way into his soul, perplexity grew, tinged with frustration. Why was Spock here?

Kirk continued to stare at the motionless figure of his lover. If the four months of their intimate relationship had taught Kirk one thing about Spock, it was that the man who could speak so many languages fluently was far from fluent in expressing the needs of his own heart. Many of their most emotional conversations, those which had ended with an ‘I love you,’ or an ‘I need you,’ or some other intimate revelation, had started with an oblique comment by Spock. Then Kirk had had to track down exactly what his lover meant. It was exasperating, but it had proven rewarding, each time, in the end.

Now, Spock had sought him out. He was lying in Kirk’s own bed, where last they had made love, but he was silent. Perhaps, even an oblique comment was beyond Spock now. Or maybe, his presence itself was the comment.

Kirk leaned against the side of the grillwork.

“Hello, Spock.”

Spock’s eyes, which had been steadfastly trained upon the ceiling, slowly closed. He took a deep breath, which sounded abnormally loud in the closed room.

“Good evening, Jim. I…hope you do not object to my occupying your quarters.”

“No, Spock, I don’t mind,” Kirk said softly. He folded his arms, and slumped against the divider, as if that were a normal position for him to be conducting a conversation with his first officer. “You know that you’re welcome here, anytime. I’m happy to see you.”

“I made that assumption before I succumbed to the impulse which brought me here. At first I believed I was behaving illogically, but on further reflection, I have reevaluated that opinion.” Finally, movement. The hand that was over Spock’s head come down to lay upon his stomach. The other hand moved to entwine with the fingers of the first.

“If you came here to talk with me, no, that’s not illogical.”

“I am not certain that speech was the motivation behind my action.”

Kirk moved to stand against the grill, feeling its design pressing against his back. “It doesn’t matter, does it? What matters is that you’re here.”

The fingers on Spock’s stomach clenched, as if in sudden fear.

“How long have you been here?”

“Thirty seven minutes.”

“Oh. Then you missed dinner.”

“I do not require nourishment at this time.”

Still softly, like talking to a wild bird that might take flight at any minute, “I wish you’d been there. You could have saved me from Bones tonight. He was really annoying.”

One eyebrow rose, but the eyes stayed closed. “Yes, I have observed that Doctor McCoy does occasionally have that effect even on members of the crew other than myself.”

Kirk shifted his weight from right hip to left, back to right again. “Yeah. But he means well.”

“Undoubtedly. I have never questioned the doctor’s motives, only his judgment.”

“He bugs me sometimes. Now he won’t let go of this inspection business. You know the report’s overdue.”

“Yes. The wheels of the bureaucracy, even Starfleet bureaucracy, turn slowly.”

Well, could they get any more inane than this? Maybe they should start discussing the weather in the herbarium.

A short silence. Kirk cleared his throat, took a step forward, and dropped his folded arms to his sides. His boots against the carpeted deck made a soft swishing sound. “Spock, what have you been doing here for the past thirty seven minutes?”

That opened Spock’s eyes. They sought the ceiling again. “I have been…feeling, Jim.” He choked the word out.

Another three steps forward. Now Kirk was close enough to look down at his lover’s tense form, and the eyes which stayed so determinedly away from his own. “What have you been feeling, love?”

A long, deep breath. “I have been feeling…sad.” Spock’s voice seemed to be thin, and reedy, and exhausted, as if he had traveled down a desolate road and had now wearily returned. The dust of the road was settled thickly upon him. It encrusted his throat, so that he spoke with the sorrow coating his words.

Kirk swallowed hard. He took the remaining two steps forward, and eased himself down on the mattress until he was sitting next to Spock’s hip, sideways, facing the austere and angular face. He gently laid one hand upon the two that were still clenched together on his lover’s stomach. They felt cold, and were hard as rock. “Will you…talk to me about it?”

Slowly, so very slowly, Spock moved his eyes down to finally meet his lover’s. He swallowed, opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Then, he pulled one hand out from under Kirk’s, and reached out, trembling, to gently lay his fingers along Kirk’s face, stroking from temple down to the edge of lips, tracing a path that ran over the meld points. His eyes were anguished. “I cannot,” he whispered, “I…cannot.” His hand fell back upon the bed.

“Oh, Spock,” Kirk sighed. Mutely, he held his two arms out toward his lover. Spock looked up at him, eyes searching. Kirk thought that it was the first real moment of communication between them since he had entered the cabin.

Kirk’s outstretched fingers curled, beckoning in a small gesture of encouragement. “Spock,” he said softly, “come here.” And after a moment of paralyzing indecision, Spock abruptly sat up, between the comfort of his lover’s arms, into the offered embrace. Their arms went about each other; Kirk brought his hand up and threaded his fingers through the dark hair. Spock made no sound, just tightened his arms, and buried his face in the curve of Kirk’s neck.

“It will be all right,” Kirk whispered, wanting to comfort. “It will be all right.”

Spock’s body beneath his hands, a moment ago pliantly melting against him, stiffened.

A harsh, shuddering breath was his answer. Slowly, Spock drew back to look him fully in the face. The austere lines of Vulcan’s son were set in granite. “No, it will not,” he said roughly, and grabbed Kirk’s face between his two hands and kissed him, hard.

Spock’s hands tightened against Kirk’s cheeks; the pressure became almost painful. At the same time, the stiff lips against his parted, and a hot tongue forced his mouth open and snaked inside. The contact of Spock’s tongue against his own was a shock, and Kirk gasped around its wetness. This bruising force was so unlike the gentle lover whom Kirk had come to know. The painful strength in the hands holding his head still, and the utter determination of the tongue roughly running over his teeth, the inside of his cheeks—was this Spock?

A thrill of sudden fear ran through Kirk. It was the same panicky feeling that he had felt in the dream, when he had seen the grotesque, distended organ that had intended to plunder his body. He had responded, in the dream, by transforming suddenly into a woman, with a woman’s body that had welcomed his lover’s domination gladly. Now, Spock’s hands were moving down from his face, roughly grabbing his shoulders, moving even further into their kiss with violent abandon, and Kirk…for the moment all Kirk could do was sit paralyzed within his lover’s grip.

After their silence, was this what Spock wanted, needed? Was this something that Kirk could give? A twisted knot of defiance welled up inside of him. He longed to throw off the arms gripping him, and to spit out the tongue that had taken possession of him. Primal self interest, and masculine pride were all he knew, for that moment. It warred with memories of love and devotion, memories of trust. It contended with the new found happiness that they had shared.

He shrugged his shoulders within the tight grip, wanting to move back and see his lover, wanting to speak. But Spock responded by sliding his hands down from the moving shoulders, down Kirk’s sides, to curl around his back and pull him forward into a clutching, fierce embrace. They were now pressed together as tightly as two seated bodies could be, and Spock’s mouth against his was still heated, moving, grinding flesh against flesh. For the first time, Kirk felt the desperation in the touch, heard the harsh breathing that accompanied it, almost sobbing. He tried to understand what was motivating his lover.

As Spock had made a statement without words by appearing in his cabin, in his bed, so now, this wordless request for comfort was just as clear. Spock was reaching for him in the most basic way, known by male animals the galaxy over. All that remained to be expressed was Kirk’s own response.

And something inside of Kirk, the part of him that had been touched by the melds, the part of him that was really no longer just his, whispered, “Yes.” Past the pride, past the self interest, he touched the part of himself that had been wanting to give Spock what he needed all along. And the part of him that needed to give to Spock in order to have life, overwhelmed the cacophony of discordant demands that sounded within him.

Exerting all his strength, he brought up his hands to push against Spock’s shoulders, and managed to tear his lips away from the fierce movement against them. He looked at his wild eyed lover, and forestalled another convulsive embrace by pressing his forefinger firmly against the swollen lips.

“Spock,” he gasped, breathless, “whatever you want, love. Whatever you need.”

Spock stared at him, chest heaving, eyes clouded. Then slowly, so slowly, he brought a long fingered hand up to Kirk’s gold clad chest, and pushed. Willingly, Kirk fell back against the bedcovers, stretching his legs out, spreading them the smallest bit. His arms went up again, in the same gesture of love and affirmation that he had used before, and with a whimper, Spock was upon him.

They were both still fully clothed, but that didn’t seem to deter Spock at all. Kirk could feel the fully engorged cock press against his thigh through the layers of material. Then Spock shifted, running his hands up under Kirk’s shirt. He pushed the material up under his armpits, laid his hands flat against his chest, and settled back down over Kirk’s body with a sigh that ended as their mouths met.

Kirk put up one hand to cradle the back of Spock’s head, the other he wrapped around his lover’s thin shoulders. They rocked against each other. Kirk could feel the heat from Spock’s spread out fingers against his chest, could hear harsh breathing turning into gasps against his mouth, could feel the rock hard cock still pressing against him. His own, he knew, was only mildly erect under the ferocity of this assault, but the fact didn’t bother him. This time wasn’t for him.

Now the motion above him changed; the long cock, pushed up against Spock’s stomach by the confining cloth, was being driven more directly into Kirk’s groin.

“Uh,” Kirk grunted. That one had hurt. Hurriedly he dropped his hands to try to adjust his own cock out of the way of Spock’s thrusts, but the body pressed so closely to his made it hard to do.

“Spock,” he gasped into an ear so close to his mouth. “Wait a minute. Let’s get our clothes off.”

His hands snaked between them and he fumbled with the fly fastening of his pants, but before it came undone, Spock gripped his wrist firmly.

“No,” he grated, “I will do that.”

In moments, Spock was on his knees between Kirk’s spread out legs. Hastily, he removed Kirk’s pants and briefs in one motion, and threw them onto the floor. Then Spock unfastened his own trousers and unzipped them. He stared down at himself, anxious movements slowing, suddenly focusing on his own hands with singleminded concentration. He pushed the pants down to his knees, then left them there, crumpled, and reached within his black briefs to pull out his erection. He pushed the waistband under his testicles, so that the elastic pushed the sacs up, and framed the yearning green tinged organ like cupped hands.

Kirk looked up in confusion. Surely, Spock intended to penetrate him. All of this aggressive behavior could only point to that. But how could he do so with his legs so hampered? And why were their upper bodies still clothed?

Spock’s gaze was still determinedly downcast, on the organ held within his own hand, and Kirk’s eyes dropped there too. Spock’s fingers were wrapped around it, pumping jerkily up and down, and Kirk winced when he thought of how the ferocity of such movement, without lubrication, must be rubbing the delicate skin painfully.

And then, Spock’s hand abandoned his organ, and dropped to his side. For a long moment, he knelt there, upright between Kirk’s legs, his long arms limply at his sides, his head hanging loosely. All the tension in his body had melted away or perhaps had gone straight into the penis which was so stiff it stuck out into the air between them. With his black tee shirt still on, the briefs cradling his testicles, the pants bunched at his knees, he looked…waifish, incomplete, a little bit ridiculous. And Kirk understood, suddenly, that all of this, the uncommon aggression, their half clothed state, the unusual silence that surrounded this strange lovemaking, all of this was a reflection of the pain, and the anger, that Spock directed at his lover and at himself, over the loss of the mental communion they both wished they could share. This, a primitive language of the body in which he was still so inexperienced, was the only way Spock had found to communicate about his loss.

Slowly, he looked up, until he met Kirk’s eyes. The intensity in the brown depths seared into the human’s soul. No one else had ever looked at him with such hopeless desire, with such a yearning question in their eyes.

“Hold me,” Spock whispered. “Please, hold me.”

But he remained kneeling, and Kirk knew he didn’t want to be embraced. Tentatively, he put out one hand, and wrapped his fingers around the most intimate part of Spock that he could touch now. Far less intimate than the mind. His cock.

Spock closed his eyes at the first touch. “Ohhhhh,” he breathed. And then, even more softly, “Ohhhhh.”

With his other hand, Kirk groped for the lubricant that he had put away in the top drawer of the bedstand three nights ago. He flipped the cap up, and squirted some cream directly over the cock in his hand.

Spock didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut now, his face twisted in a grimace that could have been pleasure, or anguish. He began a thrusting motion, pushing his cock into the tunnel of Kirk’s lubricant slick hand, and making little grunting sounds from the back of his throat. After a few moments of thrusting, he pitched forward with his hands knuckled against his lover’s shoulders.

It made keeping up the friction against the incredibly hot organ in his hand more difficult, but Kirk merely inhaled sharply with the sudden pressure against his lungs, shifted the angle of his pumping, and continued. The ridges under his touch were flared out and rock hard, the tip of the green tinged organ weeping with slickness. After one glance down along the angle of his body to make sure of the contact he had with the long prick, he looked back up at Spock’s face.

Suspended directly over him, now, Spock was panting heavily, his lips were parted, his lower jaw twisted over to one side. As if sensing that his lover was looking at him, Spock’s eyes opened, and he stared down at Kirk.

The meeting of their eyes was all it took for him to suddenly shudder into climax. Spock caught his breath sharply, and wailed, “Jim!” An anguished plea, a pain filled exclamation that sent shivers of fear all through Kirk. Three more sharp thrusts, and then a last spurting that dropped liquid all over Kirk’s wrist and lower arm. And finally, an agonized pleading that was filled with all the longing of a desolate soul, “Jim!”

Kirk released the cock not caring whether or not Spock still needed the stimulation of his touch to finish coming. He grabbed the angular shoulders and roughly pulled his lover down against him. His arm anxiously encircled the beloved form. “Oh, God, Spock, I’m here. I’m here for you.”

Slowly, the orgasmic shudders diminished, and Spock’s body relaxed against his. He slipped sideways to rest along his side on the bed, but he was curled up against Kirk, his head resting on the gold velour covering the strong shoulder, his softening genitals smearing their spent ejaculate against Kirk’s upper thigh. Kirk tightened the arm that was caught under and around Spock’s back. He inched his hand up under the black tee shirt, so that he could feel the comfort of his flesh pressed against that of his lover’s, and give that comfort in return.

When Spock finally spoke, his voice sounded unutterably weary. “It will not be all right. I fear that I will never feel the touch of your mind in mine again. It will never be all right, without that.”

In the face of that hopelessness, Kirk searched for something to say. Spock had already rejected his reassurance. What could he possibly say, when he knew Spock must have already examined the problem from every angle? He swallowed hard. What could he do against such bleak despair?

“We’ll find a way,” he said fiercely, but his own words sounded hollow in his ears. “I won’t deny you what you need.”

“Your needs are equally important,” Spock said, quietly, without expression. “I will not deny you what you require, either.”

Stalemate. But after the days long silence between them, and the emotion filled scene they had just enacted, Kirk felt entirely inadequate to arguing it out. If only they could just lay like this, uncaring, through the night, wrapped up in each other….

He sat up in bed, and gently worked the black pants further down his lover’s legs, and then off. Spock lay drained and unresisting while he did so. Then Kirk lay back down, and snuggled his arm back under and around Spock’s back. He reached down between them with his free hand, and gently pulled the waistband of his lover’s briefs out from under his testicles, and back over the softened genitals. He carefully smoothed the elastic into place along Spock’s waist, and then possessively laid his open palm against the cloth covering the mounded softness.

“Sleep, love,” he whispered, already feeling the slackening of the body that meant Spock was slipping away in post orgasmic weariness. He turned his head to place a kiss on the dark head resting next to his. “Sleep.”

Through the night, Kirk held his lover tight, and wondered about what Spock had said. What really were his human, masculine needs? And when Spock’s body twisted against his in restless sleep, he wondered what his lover dreamed.

 

 

“Commissioner Waldorf is responding to our hail, sir.”

“Good, Lieutenant, put her on the screen.”

The resolution on the bridge viewing screen flickered for a moment, then firmed. A gray haired, sixtyish woman with sharp features came into view, standing beside a desk. She wore a formal, skirted dark blue business suit, commonly favored by women in academics, and her hair was swept back off her face in a severe style. Kirk cleared his throat and spoke.

“Commissioner, this is Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_. We have assumed standard orbit around Alpha Colony.”

“Captain,” the woman graciously bowed her head and spoke in a no nonsense tone, “it is a pleasure to greet you. We have been looking forward to your arrival. When will it be convenient for us to meet with you?”

Kirk stood and circled around his command chair, keeping one hand on the control console as he did. “There’s no time like the present, ma’am. Would fifteen minutes to gather my team be too soon for you?”

“No, Captain, fifteen minutes would be fine. We are anxious to resolve this dispute with Omega. It’s been taking up far too much of our time and energy.”

Kirk paused, then, “Commissioner, I hope you understand that our initial visit will merely be a fact finding mission. We’ll need to visit the other planet and get their side of the story before we can make any recommendations.”

The woman on the screen grimaced, then waved her hand in a conciliatory gesture. “I know. I didn’t mean to imply anything, or attempt to force you into haste. You must know, Captain Kirk, that I am not a diplomat, or even a trained administrator. I’m a scientist, but I’ve been elected by our people here, so I do the best I can. But, even I can see that it would have been much simpler if the Eternists had agreed to meet with us either here, or on Omega. It’s hard for me to understand their attitude.”

Much as Kirk wanted to agree with Waldorf, his role as mediator negotiator prevented a comment, so he merely said, “We’ll be beaming down shortly, Commissioner. Kirk out.”

Ten minutes later, they awaited the last of the fourteen people who would be beaming down to arrive in the transporter room. McCoy was standing by the doorway, checking through the contents of the med kit which had been handed to him by medtech Harless. Spock was over in one corner, conferring with Ensign Hunyady, and four other of his people, all of whom had some sociological or negotiating background. The rest of their group were medical personnel, ready with a large batch of some new vaccines, and eager to install some equipment which had already been beamed down to the colony’s small hospital.

The late arrival hurried in with a muttered apology, and the senior officers moved toward their accustomed positions on the transporter pads. As they climbed the steps, Kirk gave Spock a little smile. It wasn’t returned, but there was a warmth and softness in the brown eyes that reassured him.

This morning, they had awakened in each other’s arms, their heads together on the same pillow. Spock had looked at him for long moments, then hitched up on one elbow and leaned down to kiss him, a long, slow, heart felt kiss that melted Kirk’s heart. His fingers had gone up to tangle in Kirk’s hair, a characteristic caress that usually made Kirk laugh, and now made him choke with its sweet familiarity.

“I love you,” Spock had said passionately, staring down at him. “I will always love you.”

Another kiss, this one the merest touching of their lips, and then he was gone, into the head, and then through to his own quarters. Since then, they had only spoken in an official capacity, but at least the wall of silence that had been between them was gone. Spock had quietly assumed his station on the bridge without having to be ordered to do so, and was now settling in on the pad to Kirk’s left, as he would normally do for any landing party. Perhaps, the estrangement was over, and they would be able to talk this out….

The tingle of the beam took them, and then they materialized in the commissioner’s office. Kirk squared his shoulders, and easily moved forward.

After directing their group to their separate tasks about the colony, he, Spock, Hunyady, and the other members of the negotiating team settled down around a large table with the colony’s five representatives. One of them was a Vulcan, the only male Vulcan Kirk had yet met without an ‘S’ starting his name, although his sample was admittedly small. “Monreth something unpronounceable”, Waldorf had introduced him, and everyone else in the colony’s group had laughed, as if at an inside joke. Monreth himself had smiled slightly, glancing apologetically at Kirk, and then more soberly at Spock, saying, “I have attempted to teach them, but there are no linguists in our governing group. On this entire planet, I believe only my wife and my children can say my name.” And he had smiled in a restrained way again before seating himself at the table.

The facts in the mining dispute were presented by the Assistant Commissioner, Stephen Orm, a slight, brown haired man who spoke in an organized fashion that reminded Kirk of his own efficient people. The vein of pergium had been discovered snaking its way through the asteroid belt which separated the two planets. It would make the difference between mere survival and comfortable success to the people of the Corrigan system. That the vein had been discovered almost simultaneously by miners representing each planet on opposite sides of the belt on completely different asteroids was a claim that Kirk doubted. But records had undoubtedly been falsified in the eight months since, and nothing could be done about that. An equitable way of sharing the pergium wealth had to be found, before the tension between the two colonies grew beyond the minor skirmishes that had already taken place in the belt.

“We would appreciate any help that you and your people can provide, Captain. We have not been able to come to terms with the Eternists, as you know,” Orm concluded, and looked up for reaction.

Kirk asked, “I suppose simply dividing the belt in half by proximity to the planets wouldn’t work?”

Monreth answered. “Once we have accurately determined the amount of pergium per asteroid throughout the vein, that would be an equitable solution. However, to do so, we must be able to confidently predict the orbital positions of the asteroids, in relation to our sun, and to each other. This is a very complex task, and we have been unable to accomplish it.”

Spock added, “And the density of the mineral is not present in similar amounts on all the planetoids. Such information must be gathered, and correlated.”

Monreth supplied, “We have done some initial surveys, but we have not yet studied the information in any depth.”

Commissioner Waldorf chimed in. “We’re trying not to be greedy, Captain Kirk. We know we don’t have a clear cut claim to everything that’s there. We just want our fair share. One half. The problem is how to measure that one half, and whether we can convince our neighbors that it’s a fair way to solve our problem.”

The discussion turned to various ways that the pergium bearing rocks could be charted, and how the < _Enterprise’s_ sensors could be used to provide the information they needed. Monreth, Spock, and Hunyady ended up moving to a smaller table in one corner of the room to confer together about that possibility, and while Kirk continued his discussions with the other planetary leaders, he could see the three dark heads bent together over some hard copy maps. Once, he heard Hunyady say, confidently, “I think I see a possibility here. The system’s small, there aren’t that many influences.” Occasionally, Monreth’s voice was raised in enthusiasm, and once Kirk observed his arm sweeping across the map in excited gesticulation. A most unusual Vulcan. He wondered what Spock thought of him.

Commissioner Waldorf’s voice cut through his musings. “You must forgive me, Captain. We’ve been talking for hours, and I have ignored my duties as your host. Shall we take a break now? It’s about time for our noonday meal, anyway. I’ll call for some refreshment.”

While waiting for the food, Kirk visited the bathroom which led immediately off the Commissioner’s office, then wandered over to the large plateglass window which dominated the back wall of the room. He was totally unprepared for what he saw, and gaped in wonderment. The building where they were meeting was located halfway up a gentle slope, and the view from the window provided a breathtaking view of the valley in which the Alpha settlement nestled. He stared, entranced, at the majestic mountains which soared all about them, at the beauty of the snow capped peaks, at the way the snow dusted the pine trees which grew all through the little village.

For the Alpha settlement resembled nothing so much as an Earthly alpine village. Structures of two and three stories dotted the narrow streets; all the houses or administrative buildings were made of wood, colorfully painted. Kirk estimated that there were perhaps four or five hundred structures within his view, some of them very far away on the other side of the valley. Off to the narrowest side of the hollow among the mountains, there was a complex built more closely together. The University? As he tried to decide for sure, a snowflake drifted into view, soon followed by others.

The Commissioner came up to stand by his side, gazing appreciatively out at her planet. “I never get tired of looking at this,” she said quietly. “It’s very calming on my hectic days.”

“It’s beautiful,” Kirk said sincerely. “I could almost imagine becoming a planetary administrator, just for the view.”

She laughed. “You give me too much credit, Captain Kirk. Planetary administrator is a bit too grandiose for me. There are just ten thousand of us, struggling to make this work. We have three other settlements, all smaller than this one. She turned away from the window and smiled at him. Her smile was wide, unaffected, and showed most of her teeth. “Perhaps you and your people would like to take a tour of our little town? We call it Sonata. Many of us are musically inclined. It might help you to visualize what we really hope the pergium proceeds will do for us.”

He readily agreed, and asked her about the University that the colony was known for. Before she could answer, the food was brought in on several large trays, and they all settled down to eating. At one end of the table, Spock and Monreth heaped up their plates with fruits and vegetables. Kirk heard Spock ask, “Is that terwitim?” while reaching for what looked like orange mashed potatoes. Monreth replied, “Yes, my bondmate and I prepared it this morning. We were aware that there would be another Vulcan visiting us. I brought it with me when I left the house for this meeting.”

Orm talking to someone right by his side made Kirk miss the rest of the exchange between the two Vulcans, but he watched Spock take a large helping of the orange food and then return to the small table again with his companion.

Kirk moved down to take a sample of the unfamiliar food. He licked it off his fork tentatively, and found it much too bitter for his tastes. Maybe Vulcans combined it with something….

Talk during the meal centered around the University. When everyone was finished, Commissioner Waldorf pushed her plate back and said heartily, “Who’s ready for a walk outside?”

Kirk was the first to stand, and Spock was somehow right beside him a moment later. While Kirk would have gladly plunged out into the falling snow clothed as he was now, he knew that the cold outside would be intensely uncomfortable for his desert born friend.

He looked about the room. “Uh, we don’t have any jackets or anything….”

Monreth was leading them out of the office and into a small anteroom. “We have anticipated your need, Captain. There are extra outer garments for all of your crewmembers.” He addressed Spock. “Commander, I brought one of my jackets for you. It has additional insulation.” He reached toward a hook. “And this cap for your head.”

Spock bowed his head gravely in acknowledgment, and Kirk was caught between the double emotions of gratitude that Monreth was being so kind, and a surge of irritation for the same solicitude for which he was grateful. Ridiculous, he chastised himself. He shrugged into a jacket.

He was glad that they had donned the outer clothing, for the temperature was chilly when they emerged into the open air. But he felt exhilarated. He had always loved the snow, and little flakes of it were falling everywhere about them in the utter stillness. Even the tops of the pine trees were upright in the absence of wind.

Spock stood next to him, staring up into the swirling pattern in the air, blinking as a snowflake landed on his eyelashes. Kirk laughed, and put up one hand to shield his own eyes as he looked upwards. “Mr. Spock, when was the last time you were out in the snow?” he teased.

Spock continued to apparently survey the tops of the pine trees, but his lips twitched. “On Orrus IV, Captain, five point three standard years ago.”

“Well, I don’t know about Orrus IV, but this snow here is a lot like the snow in Iowa. I’d like to go there with you someday. Winters in Iowa are beautiful.”

“Indeed. While the prospect of such a trip with you is appealing, I feel compelled to point out that after my experience on Orrus IV, it took me three hours of meditation to stabilize my temperature.”

“Really?” Kirk asked, turning to face him, and suddenly concerned. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea after all. He rarely sent Spock on landing party duty to wintery planets.

Spock had turned toward him too. His face was framed by the fringe of synthetic fur of the hood that he had pulled up over his head. “Really. However, that was an uncommon occurrence, involving prolonged exposure and emergency measures. I do not believe that exposure to this situation will harm me. Monreth and his family have apparently adjusted well.”

“Let me know if you get too cold.”

“I shall so inform you, Captain.” The words were impersonal, the answering twinkle in Spock’s eyes was not. He was laughing at his Captain’s unnecessary concern. It warmed Kirk, in a way that no insulated jacket ever could.

Their group walked down a well marked path toward the village. The falling snow made the footing slippery, and they had to step carefully. Commissioner Waldorf maintained a commentary on the buildings they passed, the people who lived or worked there, introducing them pleasantly to the few people they passed, obviously trying to paint as positive a picture as possible of life on the colony. But Kirk couldn’t blame her. And he had to admire the industry which had accomplished the beauty of this little village in just the fifteen years it had been settled.

“How long have you lived here, Commissioner?” he asked.

“Only seven years, Captain. There was an opening at the University for an astrophysicist, and I was intrigued by the possibilities here. I still work there; usually my duties as Commissioner aren’t very strenuous. Monreth is with the University too.”

Kirk shifted his attention to the Vulcan with an enquiring glance.

“I arrived on Corrigan Alpha fifteen years, ago, Captain,” Monreth responded. He was bundled up in a long brown coat that reached his knees, and a purple scarf was wrapped around his head and neck. He had to lift up from the folds of the scarf to speak. “My bondmate and I were original settlers of this planet. I am a biologist, Jilan is the administrator for Sonata.”

Stephen Orm chimed in. “You should see their home. Magnificent! They’ve managed to adapt the desert style from their home planet to our winter weather. It’s practically carved into the side of the mountain, and it’s always warm there.”

Monreth shot his comrade an amused look. “Simply a necessity for the physical needs of my family, Stephen. And the adaptation was not difficult. Merely logical.”

Waldorf and Orm both laughed, and Kirk realized that the word ‘logical’ here evoked the same response that it did on the _Enterprise_. Apparently, Monreth knew how to tease humans too.

Even after they had walked the mile to the University, Kirk still wanted to stay outside in the open air. More than the exhilarating coolness, he found that he liked these people, and enjoyed their company and conversation. And, after their days of silence and strain, having Spock walking beside him, making his incisive observations in the familiar style which was so comfortingly usual…he could have walked a very long way with the promise of a shared glance of affection between them as an incentive. But he knew a tour of the most important institution on the planet was a necessity for him to make some reasonable recommendations in the mining dispute that would so affect the people who lived here. So he dutifully shrugged out of his outerwear in the anteroom of the main building, and followed Waldorf as she conducted a tour.

The University was working on some intriguing research projects, and seemed to have an array of enthusiastic students and instructors. What they all lacked, according to a universal complaint that Kirk had heard before, even on his own ship, was the exact right piece of equipment that would make the ‘important’ breakthrough possible. Even Commissioner Waldorf was not immune to the common cry for additional funds. Kirk listened, amused, knowing that when the next budget planning session with his own department heads came around he would be hearing the exact same pleas. But with a mother lode of pergium orbiting not ten million miles away, there was a good chance that these scientists in their pristine labs would be getting most of what they asked for, while his own people would have to make do with their allotment from the Federation.

Not that they would suffer much, he mused. As head of the Science department, Spock had a way of wringing the most benefit out of every piece of equipment, and concentrating the resources of his people where they would do the most good. The _Enterprise_ and her labs had a remarkable record to be proud of. But it was just as much due to management skills, Kirk thought, as it was to scientific expertise. He directed a fond glance in the direction of his ever efficient first officer, but Spock was too engrossed in the explanation of one of the eager scientists to even notice.

After the tour, they walked along a different route back to the administration building, to conclude their initial round of talks. The snowfall had slowed to an occasional flurry, and the temperature had warmed up enough that Kirk walked with his jacket unzipped. Even Monreth unwrapped the muffler from around his head. Their route took them by what appeared to be a commercial district, with several simply presented shops and cafes. As they entered what Waldorf explained was the town square, the pleasant sound of music came drifting their way.

“Oh, we’re in time for the concert,” Waldorf exclaimed. “Captain, our musical groups take turns entertaining here in the mid afternoon. Although,” she said, scanning over the heads of the fifty or so people who had gathered on benches and cafe tables in the partially enclosed space to hear the music, “I’m not quite sure who is playing now.”

“It is the young people’s group,” Monreth identified softly, moving forward through the crowd and pointing. “There is T’Shil on the lyre. My oldest daughter.”

They found seats near the front and sat down. The covered area was heated, and actually quite comfortable, even though it was open to the elements on three sides. And although Kirk would have preferred to continue on to their destination and finish up the talks efficiently, he bowed to what was apparently a general desire to stop and hear the rest of the outdoor concert.

The musician whom Monreth had pointed to was playing the lyre in a quartet of other string instruments. She appeared to be about twenty, and was quite striking looking. Perhaps even beautiful, Kirk conceded to himself, although he could never look at a Vulcan woman and not see the treacherous T’Pring in his mind. She had prejudiced him against aristocratic dark haired beauties for all time. This younger woman’s features were delicate, but soft, and her hair lay attractively about her shoulders. During a break in the performance, she turned to give her father a gentle smile that transformed her solemn concentration on her music into a delicate radiance.

Orm leaned across their table toward the _Enterprise_ officers. “T’Shil is one of our most accomplished musicians, Captain, Commander. She already has made a commercial recording, and there may even be a tour coming up soon, right, Monreth?”

Monreth nodded, never taking his eyes from his lovely daughter. “Yes, but we are equally proud of her success at the University. She will be receiving her second doctoral degree soon, in physics. Her mother and I are pleased with her accomplishments.”

Orm grinned at this complacent pride. “Now all you have to do is worry about finding a suitable son in law to keep up with her. A top flight musician, and a brilliant scientist in the making. Nobody on this planet has taken her fancy yet.”

Monreth folded his arms. “There is no hurry, Stephen. I feel confident that the appropriate candidate will present himself in due time.”

The music resumed, and they fell silent. But Kirk couldn’t help but notice the tension that had suddenly stiffened the body of his friend sitting next to him or the way that Spock’s head had turned sharply toward Monreth during the conversation about T’Shil. Surely, Spock was offended by this casual talk about Vulcan marriage customs, or perhaps there was some other taboo that had been disregarded by the so unusual Monreth. Or…had it been something else?

Grimly, Kirk listened to the rest of the short performance without hearing a note, acutely aware that his companion’s attention had shifted to focus on the young and beautiful lyre player. Angry with himself and his surge of jealousy, Kirk tried to concentrate on the details of their mission, the upcoming trip to Corrigan Omega. Spock could look where he wanted to look, and for his Captain to even notice was a ridiculous state of affairs.

After that, the walk back through the snow seemed uninteresting, and the rest of the afternoon’s talks too long. Kirk was restless, and eager to return to the ship where the rest of the _Enterprise_ contingent had already gone. Only Spock remained with him to finish up some final details about the pergium. But just as he was concluding with Waldorf, Spock approached him from across the room with a…proposal.

“I do not believe that our one day here has provided us with sufficient information on which to construct a solution, Captain. Not only are there additional sociological factors to take into consideration, but the raw data of the pergium concentration has not yet been properly correlated. I have only begun that task, and it requires several more hours of work.” Spock stood at ease with his hands clasped behind his back. Monreth and Orm were standing behind and to either side of him, as if in support. “However, it would be illogical to retain the entire ship in orbit, especially as we are expected at Corrigan Omega within fifteen standard hours. Therefore, I request permission to remain here while you conduct the fact finding mission on Omega. We can meet in a few days’ time to compare data.”

Commissioner Waldorf came up behind Kirk. “That’s a wonderful idea!” she exclaimed. “We would love to have you, Commander. That is,” she faltered, suddenly aware of the way Kirk had stiffly drawn himself upright, and how the two _Enterprise_ officers were standing staring at one another, “if it wouldn’t be too inconvenient.”

“It will not be inconvenient for us,” Monreth stated. “I have offered Commander Spock the hospitality of my home. Jilan and I will see to his comfort.”

A short silence. “Is this the…logical thing to do, Mr. Spock? You know that you’re also…needed on the ship,” Kirk asked, speaking as levelly as he could despite the betraying pounding of his heart.

Waldorf looked from one man to the other, aware of undercurrents that she could not interpret.

“Affirmative.” Spock’s voice was clipped. “There is much that I would accomplish here in the next few days.”

“The next few days could be very important ones…for the colonies.” Kirk spoke beyond the constriction of his throat, and damned their interested audience.

“Indeed. They could be…essential. Which is why I am making this suggestion. My remaining on this planet will facilitate the accomplishment of several objectives, simultaneously.”

Several objectives. But what were they? And what was Spock really trying to say to him? The brown eyes gazing back at Kirk were intent. Obviously Spock thought that this was important. But why?

And what could he possibly say before the others? ‘Did you really mean what you said this morning? Will you still love me when the damned asteroids are divided up to everyone’s satisfaction? Or is this just one more way to put distance between us?’

Instead Kirk said, “If that is your recommendation, Science Officer, then I accept it.” He forced out a weak smile, in an attempt to defuse the tension which he knew everyone could detect, if not understand. “I’ve learned not to stand in the way of logic.”

Orm gave a short laugh. “So have we, Captain. Sometimes, Monreth’s arguments can be devastating.”

Kirk tried to hide a wince. “Yes. Well, I’ll have a yeoman pack a bag for you, Mr. Spock, and beam it down.” It was standard procedure.

“Thank you, Captain, that would be most appreciated.”

Kirk turned to take his leave of the Commissioner, mechanically making arrangements for another meeting when they returned from Omega. He nodded to the others, then focused on his first officer. Spock was standing easily next to Monreth, his weight evenly distributed on both legs, hands behind his back, his expression calm. Kirk couldn’t make anything of it. Despite his determination not to allow himself to react, Kirk couldn’t resist one long lingering look at his friend. His friend. His friend whom he loved.

“Don’t catch cold, Mr. Spock.”

“I will not, Captain.”

The beam took him. And in the tingle, Kirk thought, Great. Now what the hell did all that mean?

 

 

“…but surely we have made our position clear, Captain. Our Planetary Priest cannot possibly meet with you and your people until you have all been properly certified. And certification requires ritual!”

Kirk gritted his teeth and stared at the viewscreen. It showed, not an image to go along with the voice of the incredibly irritating man who was speaking, but only the picture of a cloud dotted planet slowly rotating. The Eternists hadn’t even given them the courtesy of visual contact with the Omega colony. As if they thought the imagined impurities of the _Enterprise_ personnel could be transmitted along the carrier wave!

“Minister, as I have said before…” Kirk’s voice carried a dangerous note of exaggerated patience which the bridge crew had heard before. Chekov exchanged a glance with Sulu; especially given his recent dark mood, Captain Kirk was likely to blow up soon!

“…cannot expect my people to take part in rituals in which they do not believe. And it would be a violation of their rights as citizens of the Federation to ask them personal, prying questions.” Kirk drew in a deep breath; it was obvious to all those watching him that he was containing his temper with an effort. “We will restrict our contact group to human males, as you requested. But I will not subject them, or myself, to any certification scan, or ritual of your choosing!”

There was no answer from the minister on Omega. When the silence lengthened, Kirk looked over with a darkened brow at Uhura, who shrugged her shoulders, reached out with superbly manicured fingers to adjust a knob, then nodded back to Kirk. Her eyebrow was arched sardonically. The connection was still open.

Kirk shifted in his seat, rested his elbows on either armrest, and steepled his fingers. It was a gesture borrowed unconsciously from his absent first officer. “Minister, perhaps we can compromise on this issue…”

“I am sorry, Captain Kirk, that would be impossible,” the earnest voice cut in. “We have children in this community, and our women to think of. We cannot expose…”

Kirk knew how to interrupt too. “Minister, believe me,” he gave a twisted smile, “we wouldn’t dream of…affecting your women and children. I propose that we meet on board the _Enterprise_. That way you wouldn’t have to worry about our presence on your colony.”

“Board a Federation starship? Captain, you cannot be serious!” The disembodied voice sounded incredulous. “Especially considering the situation with your first officer, that would also be quite impossible.”

“What?” Kirk squeaked. He sat bolt upright and his fingers dropped to grip the armrest to either side. He drew in a deep breath, and forced calm upon his pounding heart. “What are you implying, Minister?” he asked roughly; his steely tone had returned to its normal masculine timbre.

“I imply nothing, Captain. It is well known that your first officer is of…mixed blood. An abomination.”

Relief made Kirk sag against the backrest of his command chair. He stared again at the brilliant blues and whites on the screen, and fought for a steady composure to replace the adrenaline that had surged through him a moment before. He was deeply, deeply grateful that Spock was not at the science station to hear those hurtful words. For the moment, the hated desert style house that had taken Spock away from him seemed a perfect sanctuary for the man he wanted to shield from pain. “Abomination?” Kirk shook his head. “Minister, you don’t know what you’re talking about. But it doesn’t matter. Commander Spock is not on the ship right now, so he won’t bother you.”

“But there are others. Aliens. You would ask us to subject the Planetary Priest to them?”

Talking to this man was like trying to walk through mud. Feeling as if he were slogging for the umpteenth mile, Kirk tried, “Non humans. Yes. But members of the Federation, as you are.”

“Our membership is a matter of expediency only, Captain, as I am sure you are well aware. I am afraid I must deny your personnel access to our planet until you agree to submit yourselves to our procedures.”

“Then we are at an impasse, Minister.”

“That appears to be the case, Captain. I will consult with others from the governing council, and contact you at a later time. Farewell.”

Kirk waved a frustrated hand toward Uhura, who promptly cut the connection with the planet.

Uhura at her console, Chekov and Sulu seated before the viewscreen, even Ensign Hunyady on her very first shift at the science station, all knew to maintain the silence that feel over the bridge. Kirk was tensely leaning on his left elbow, hand knuckled under his chin, staring down at the deck with his forehead furrowed, his lips savagely thinned. He looked angry, frustrated, and ready to explode.

A distinct Harumph! broke the lengthening silence. “Well, I’d say that was a man who wouldn’t say it was raining even if he got wet!”

Kirk twisted around in his chair to look darkly at McCoy on the upper deck. “So. When did you get here?”

“Somewhere between ‘impossible’ and ‘abomination’,” McCoy said dryly. He ignored his Captain’s distinctly unfriendly tone, and stepped down into the command well. “What are you going to do? You’re supposed to negotiate with those people. Tough to do if they won’t talk to you.”

“Talk to them? I’d rather drop photon torpedoes on them!” Kirk turned back to scowl at the viewscreen’s image of the innocently rotating planet. “Asking us to submit to their damned questions! I won’t tolerate it!”

“We’ve been subjected to some pretty strange requirements by different cultures before, Captain,” McCoy said calmly. “Surely, we can bend a little here…”

“No!” Kirk said forcefully. “No!”

And though McCoy looked at him a little oddly, he didn’t say any more. It was clear that Kirk would not be convinced.

For a long moment there was silence. The only movement was Uhura suddenly moving forward in her seat, putting one hand on the comlink in her ear, and the other on a dial.

Abruptly Kirk stood up. “Mr. Sulu, you have the con. I’ll be in my quarters. Contact me immediately if we hear from the colony.” He strode impatiently up the steps toward the turbolift.

But before he could move inside, Uhura’s voice stopped him.

“Captain, there’s a message coming in from Starfleet Command. Canned.” Her hand left the comlink and her gaze rose to meet his. “Sir, it’s from Admiral N’Kara.”

Kirk clenched his hands into fists. The long awaited inspection report. He took a deep breath, grimly hoping his tension wasn’t very noticeable to the others. “Pipe it on down to my quarters, Lieutenant,” he said, very, very quietly. He turned, and moved forward with great, deliberate control. The turbolift doors swished open, then shut, and he was gone.

“Wow,” Uhura sagged back against her chair.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Captain Kirk that mad,” commented Sulu. He vacated his helmsman’s station and slid into the command seat.

“We’ve never dealt with such a group of bigots before,” Uhura said acerbically. “He had a right to be angry. Especially after what that Minister said about Mister Spock. You would think the man would have enough sense not to insult the first officer of the ship!”

“But the Eternists are known for their bluntness, Lieutenant,” McCoy reminded, still standing at his unofficial station next to the command chair. “It’s part of their religion.”

“Well, I don’t have to like it,” she replied, then turned back to her console to transfer the message from N’Kara to the Captain’s quarters.”

 

 

Kirk forced himself to slow down and read the letter from Admiral N’Kara which accompanied the report. Again. This time word for word.

Stardate: 3727.1  
Origin: George N’Kara, Rear Admiral  
Starfleet Command Headquarters  
San Francisco, Earth  
Re: Final Report: Inspection USS _Enterprise_ NCC 1701  
Routing: James T. Kirk, Captain USS _Enterprise_

Jim,  
Attached is the final draft of the inspection report. No major changes from what we discussed before. The Enterprise is a fine ship, and you can be proud of your crew. Commander Spock’s report on the integration of the fifty new non human crewmembers with the rest of the Enterprise’s complement was encouraging. Looks like you’ve got all the procedures and programs in place there. Do something about the problem with your junior officers assuming more responsibility and getting command training, and we’ll be writing up a clean report on you next time.  
Best Regards,  
George 

__

It didn’t sound any better the third time around than it had the first or the second. Damn! Damn again! Jerkily Kirk rose from his chair and walked about the desk, as if fleeing from the glowing words on his computer screen. He didn’t bother to read the actual inspection report a third time. He knew what it said.

__

The same thing that it had said on the first draft. The _Enterprise_ had received top grades in virtually every measure the inspection used, except for that one little section that criticized the Captain of the _Enterprise_ for his “inattention to the proper training of the junior grade officers under his command.”

__

It had rankled five weeks ago and it rankled now. Pacing about his cabin, Kirk drove one fist into an open palm. He saw not only the direct criticisms, but the unspoken one that he read between the lines. That one was directed at Kirk’s own command style, which always put him in the forefront of the action. At least N’Kara hadn’t told him to stay put in the center seat, but this report was the next thing to it.

__

Why hadn’t N’Kara understood, after he had sent a response explaining why he relied so heavily on his senior officers? Out here, where the _Enterprise_ was so often on the edges of the explored reaches of the galaxy, danger lurked everywhere. Inexperience could jeopardize the success of a mission, could cost lives. More than a few times, it would have cost the ship as well. Who did Starfleet Command, and N’Kara, want him to sent out to combat threats like that giant amoeba? Sulu? Crap! Only Spock could have survived, and saved uncounted millions of lives. Did Starfleet think any other doctor would have known enough to find the cure to the plague on Miri’s planet? There was no substitute for McCoys years of experience! He took his senior people with him on landing parties because they averted danger, found solutions, saved lives.

__

Kirk whirled away from the divider and stalked in the opposite direction. He’d been so certain that N’Kara, a wily veteran of real deep space duty, would understand. At least, he’d hoped so. It had all been stated clearly in the response to the first draft that he’d sent the Admiral. But not a word of the original criticism had been changed. He may as well have saved himself the effort of writing.

__

Which Spock had quietly told him at the time. At the thought, Kirk stopped his pacing and stood stock still in the center of his cabin. He looked at the closed door to the bathroom, which connected through another door to his first officer’s quarters.

__

God, he wished Spock was here now. He needed someone to talk this over with, and there wasn’t a soul on board the entire ship who would understand except for his first officer. Despite the fact that he knew Spock agreed with Starfleet, despite his first officer’s occasional comments that the Captain need not beam down on every single landing party, he knew that Spock would understand his frustration with the report.

__

Kirk’s stomach churned, and he took three quick steps toward the bathroom door. He felt more than a little sick. He’d been the one who let his Silver Lady down. Him. A virtually flawless inspection, spoiled by the criticism of the ship’s Captain. Not the security section, not the hangar deck personnel, not the crew’s performance on attack drills or evacuation emergencies. But him, Captain James T. Kirk! He could almost laugh at the dreadful irony. He’d been so sure that he was doing the very best he could, so certain that he had everything within his command under control. He’d worked hard for that control, from the very first day he had stepped aboard the _Enterprise_ , trying to counteract the very natural questions his crew might have had about his youth and presumed inexperience. And now, to find that it was that very control that was being censured! An awful dread clutched at his heart, which he angrily denied. Still, his stomach clamored for attention.

__

But when he walked into the bathroom, he denied his physical turmoil, and continued on into Spock’s darkened room. The dim automatic lights came up, and he paused to look around the familiar quarters, seeking the calm reassurance that he’d always found here before. A few computer tapes were scattered on the desk; the chair was pushed haphazardly back, as if Spock had just vacated it and intended to return soon. 

__

Squinting with a frown in the dim light, and pursing his lips as he swiveled on one heel, Kirk surveyed the rest of the office. The room was warm with the slight smell of incense from the idlomputt, the elusive odor that had become a part of his nights of loving Spock. He would always associate it with the feeling of that long, lean, warm body pressed against his own. Even now, overlaying the anger and discontent that stalked along with his every step, he felt a little thrill of sexual excitement. Damn! what he wouldn’t give for a good, long, hard fuck right now. It would take some of this tension and put it where it would do the most good, into his stiff prick. And then into…

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Not on the bed, Kirk thought, eyeing the sparkles reflecting off the metallic thread bedspread with distaste. On the floor. Right in front of the idlomputt. He could see its glow through the grill separating bedroom from office. And afterwards, they’d lay back and talk about the Eternists, talk about the inspection report. Spock’s deep voice would be as warm as his body had been. Talking with him would help put things into perspective, take the knowledge that was buried deep within Kirk that said his Command could have been, should have been differently expressed for his junior officers, and give it voice.

__

With the thought, all of Kirk’s budding sexual arousal evaporated. What was the good of thinking about fucking, he thought angrily, if all you had was your good right hand? What was the good of thinking about what should have been, when the past three years had already been done?

__

Over in the corner, the closet door had been left open a few inches, probably by the yeoman who had hurriedly packed Spock’s bag. The sleeve of a heavy white pullover sweater hung out. Kirk grimaced. He didn’t like Spock in white. He thought it didn’t do a thing for his sallow coloring. He turned away from the sight, back to the desk, where something familiar caught his eye.

__

Hanging on the wall above the credenza to the side of the desk was a plaque. He stalked toward it, slowing as he remembered when he had bought it, his first tentative gift for his so unique friend and first officer. The salesman on Vega IX had been convincing, and it was an excellent commemoration of an historic event. In the top half, it showed a picture of two twent first century chess masters, shaking hands and smiling too fixedly into the camera. Just below the picture was a move by move account of what most experts acknowledged to be the greatest chess game ever played, on Centaurus II, at the first interplanetary chess championship.

__

Shoving the chair back into the desk to get closer to the plaque, Kirk leaned his palm against the wall and peered down to get a closer look at it in the dim light. When this gift had suddenly reappeared two long years after its giving, to be mounted next to the desk where Spock spent so many of his hours, Kirk had felt…moved, and proud. It had somehow set a seal of approval, and permanence, to their relationship. It was something visible, tangible. In an unspoken way, Spock was saying to anyone who entered his office that this gift from his Captain was important to him.

__

But where was their importance now? Where was his lover when he needed him? Abruptly, Kirk turned away from the plaque and stared at the closed door which lead out into the corridor. He needed Spock to talk to now! What the hell was he doing on that damned planet anyway? Making up to T’Shil? Trying to throw away everything they had together in his search for something Vulcan? When Spock had said, “I love you” in the morning, had that been a poignant goodbye?

__

Angrily, Kirk shrugged his shoulders, and escaped from the confining space behind Spock’s desk to walk vigorously around the room. He knew his thoughts about his lover were unworthy, just like he knew that every word of Starfleet’s criticisms were just. He knew he had Spock’s love, and devotion. And he knew that, very soon, he would have to de vise programs, implement changes, and give Star fleet Command what they wanted. Give his junior officers what they deserved, real field training and an opportunity to develop the experience that he himself so prized. Even now, the thought that he might have somehow impeded their careers and chances for promotion through his own misguided management dug a yawning pit in his stomach.

__

But he didn’t have to do a damn thing right now! Right now he wasn’t in the mood for compromises! Perversely, he wanted to wallow in the anger he felt toward Spock, and the righteous indignation that swelled when he thought of the chairbound Starfleet bureaucracy. It seemed that for days and days he’d just been tiptoeing around his sensitive lover, and everything else. Well, the hell with it! He knew Spock needed the meld, and he knew that he himself wanted it! So they’d find a way to get it! If he had to drag that reticent, exasperating, absolutely irreplaceable Vulcan to a healer, then he’d do it. If they had to confront Amanda and Sarek, and ask embarrassing, revealing questions, well, by God, he’d do that too!

__

Nodding emphatically in the semi darkness toward the bulkhead, Kirk felt a definite sense of satisfaction come to mix with his irritation. He always felt better when he decided to do something, and developed a plan of action. This ridiculous hesitation had gone on long enough.

__

Filled with a sense of purpose, briskly he strode back into his own cabin. Time to come up with a solution for their stupid problem with the Eternists, too. If they wouldn’t come to the ship, and he wouldn’t bend enough to go to the planet…Why did they really need to meet, anyway? The crux of the matter was the asteroid belt, and the pergium it contained. If the < _Enterprise’s_ sensors could somehow make some sense, find a pattern to the motion of the rocks that would satisfy both sides…

__

He flicked the intercom button on his desk, restlessly standing to one side of it. “Kirk to bridge.”

__

Uhura’s voice immediately answered. “Uhura here, Captain.”

__

Uhura always sounded so damned competent. But he could count the number of landing parties he had assigned her to on his fingers. And her linguistic skills would come in handy on diplomatic occasions…“Lieutenant, let me talk to Ensign Hunyady.” Spock seemed to be impressed with the woman. Well, here was a chance for her to prove herself.

__

Quickly he outlined his idea. “Could you train the sensors, even at this distance, on the belt, and see if you can come up with a solution for the colonies, based on empirical data?” And not diplomatic natterings, he thought, but did not say.

__

“Yes, sir, I’ll start on it right away. May I call on other members of the science section for their assistance, sir?” She sounded absolutely confident.

__

He waved one hand in the air, unseen. “Do whatever you have to, Ensign. You know the situation from being on Alpha. Let’s find an obvious solution that neither of these planets can dispute. Kirk out.”

__

Before he could even think of what to do next, the distinctive whistle calling for the Captain sounded in the room. This time Kirk walked around the desk and settled in the chair before activating the intercom, including the visual. “Kirk here.”

__

It was the very worried looking face of the chief engineer that filled the screen. “Captain, we’ve got problems.”

__

 

__

 

__

“So it isn’t critical yet? Are you sure?” Kirk wanted to be certain his ship didn’t face immediate destruction.

__

“Ah’m sure. Ya ken ah wouldn’t a called without checkin’ the diagnostics thoroughly meself!” They walked together toward the panel on the side of the engineering room wall that displayed a complicated array of readouts. Two technicians were standing there, anxiously looking up at glowing figures and dials.

__

Kirk dismissed Scotty’s aggrieved defense with an abrupt motion of his hand. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we pinpoint this problem with the matter/antimatter mix.”

__

The Scot passed a hand over his face in frustrated concern. “Ah’ve got my best people on it, Captain. But it’s fluctuatin’. Ah’m not even sure whether it’s in the port or starboard nacelle. Here, Shinswani,” he called to one of the techs standing before the board, “his Lieutenant Dawson reported in yet?”

__

“No, sir. He’s gone up to the starboard nacelle with a few others.”

__

“Does he have his communicator?” Scott asked in concern.

__

“Yes, sir,” the slight woman answered. She brushed her long, jet black hair further off her shoulder. “I gave it to him myself.”

__

“Good.” Scotty turned back to Kirk. “They’re crawling all over the nacelle, Captain. Only way to keep track is by communicator.”

__

Kirk was staring at the diagnostics. He knew enough engineering, and what made his Silver Lady fly, to be able to read the tale told there clearly. “This is the same ghost Spock and Dawson were chasing a few days ago, isn’t it?”

__

Scott grimly nodded his head in agreement. “Aye, only it’s clear now that our combination of matter and anti matter is off balance. See,” he strode over to another panel and pointed accusingly, “a good point seven five percent more antimatter than matter is bein’ introduced into the implosion chamber!”

__

“That’s within our tolerances,” Kirk supplied, frowning.

__

“Aye,” Scott said impatiently, “but only because there’s additional matter in the lining of the chamber to interact with the anti matter. Sooner or later it will all be exhausted, and then…” He paused, unable to find the words.

__

Kirk finished for him. “Then the anti matter breaches the protective fields and starts to interact with the matter that makes up the _Enterprise_. And since we don’t have any safeguards, we explode.” His voice was hard, and there were lines etched on his forehead between his eyes.

__

“But it won’t come to that, Captain,” Scott reassured. “Ah’ve got everyone workin’ on it, and ah’ll be up in the tubes meself soon.” Scott clearly indicated he wished that’s where he was now.

__

“If we don’t use the warp engines at all?” Kirk asked.

__

“Aye, that’ll help some. At this rate, we could go for five, meybe six days, before it turns critical. That’ll be plenty of time to find the imbalance. But still…” Scotty frowned, and anxiously surveyed another row of dials. Any time his beloved engines acted up, the engineer felt personally responsible.

__

“Would it help if Mister Spock were here?” Kirk asked abruptly.

__

Scotty turned back to face him, startled. He nodded slowly, considering. “Aye. He worked with Dawson on this before. And he kens the bairns. But ah thought he was on…”

__

Kirk’s face was set. “That doesn’t matter. We can go on impulse power back to Alpha in just six hours and get him. This is more important.” He didn’t say more important than what, and Scotty didn’t press him for details.

__

Kirk strode over to an intercom set in the wall. “Kirk to bridge. Lt. Sulu?”

__

“Sulu here, sir.”

__

“Take us on impulse power back to the Alpha colony.”

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__

 

__

“Energizing now, sir,” Lieutenant Kyle reported, and pulled back on the lever that would transport solid matter through thousands of miles of empty space.

__

Kirk watched as a silvery form began to take shape on the platform. Peripherally, he was aware that a suitcase was materializing on an adjacent pad, just as he was also peripherally aware that Kyle was staring at the transporter as he was, and that the < _Enterprise’s_ ventilation system was hissing softly through the air in the room. But none of that was important. What was important was getting this sudden surge of incredibly mixed emotions that was coursing through his mind under control.

__

The silvery sparkles settled into the outline of a body, and then that body began to take on some solidity. Kirk watched, his fists clenched, as the Starfleet uniform tunic slowly turned a definite blue. The cap of hair turned from insubstantial energy to silky darkness, and then was highlighted by the transporter room lights. The delicate point of a distinctive ear became visible, and then, the hint of a curved brow.

__

In the moment before Spock completely materialized, Kirk felt his heart thump wildly, once, in his chest. It was as if the ship had lost its gravitational field, and his entire being lurched, floating for an eternal second in weightlessness. And then he was captured by gravity again, but this time, it didn’t pull him toward the comforting familiarity of the ship’s deck. Instead, he was inexorably drawn toward the spiritual gravity that was in his lover forming before his eyes.

__

Kirk blinked, and his fists clenched even harder than they had been. He was angry with Spock, and confused about his actions, and irrationally upset with him that he hadn’t been on board when the report arrived. And yet, he could not deny this overwhelming yearning, as if his whole being were reaching out toward his lover. Why did it feel as if there was…something, some indefinable essence that was radiating out from his chest, searching for the solidity of an anchor somewhere beyond himself? Why this aching feeling of an incomplete connection? Why was he searching the fading silvery sparkles so intently for the first sight of his lover’s eyes, when he had worked himself up into a fine anger that was still teasing for expression?

__

Materialization complete. And Spock didn’t even have to move, he looked directly at his Captain.

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With a jolt that reached straight into Kirk’s heart, the connection between them snapped into place. There! his soul said in satisfaction, reaching through his anger, his impatience and irritation. There!

__

For a long, long moment they just looked at one another, hazel eyes into brown. Throughout the galaxy, it was a truism: Nobody could tell what a Vulcan was thinking. But Kirk had scented the elusive fragrance of hyacinths in his first officer’s mind, had known there was something more in the soul behind the stoic facade. And, through months of careful observation and effort, he had learned to read the shading of a canted brow, the expression of compressed or softened lips, the words behind the angle of narrow shoulders. And although no one else in all the galaxy might be able to, now he read the smile that was in Spock’s eyes.

__

Confused, Kirk pulled his gaze away from the liquid windows that were exposing his lover’s soul, and grappled within himself to pull some of his own righteous indignation back into focus.

__

Spock leaned down to pick up his suitcase, stepped from the transporter and walked over to stand directly in front of Kirk. “Good evening, Captain.”

__

As always, Spock knew what the ship’s time was, regardless of what time of day or night it had been on the planet. His voice sounded almost light hearted. Kirk looked back up at him. The expression on his angular face was serene, the light still shining in his eyes. Was he…happy?

__

Kirk swallowed. He’d been prepared for all sorts of things, from the elusive Spock of the last few days, to a regretful Spock who would leave him for T’Shil, to a businesslike Spock who was first and foremost first officer of the _Enterprise_ , and he had determined to meet any one of these Spocks with his own steely determination to put their estrangement behind them and continue their relationship as normally as possible. He hadn’t expected this…almost radiant Spock, who was looking at him so hopefully. The expression made Kirk feel off balance, and he struggled to maintain some sort of Captainly demeanor before the unavoidably observing Kyle.

__

“Spock. Hello. How was the planet?”

__

“My time visiting the Alpha colony was well spent, Captain. Information on the mineral composition of the asteroid belt is now fully integrated.”

__

“Good.” As always, talking about their mission or the ship was a refuge. Kirk was eager to hide his conflicting thoughts within it. “We’ll have to feed whatever you’ve got to our own computers. I have half your science section working on a theory of Hunyady’s that might solve the whole problem.”

__

Spock’s eyebrow rose with interest. “Are you referring to a way of consistently predicting the motions of the asteroids? The Ensign expressed an interest in such a theory while on Corrigan Alpha. It could prove to be scientifically significant if she can indeed succeed in producing a theorem which works.”

__

“We’ll see. In the meantime, we’ve got other problems. Did Uhura brief you on the engine imbalance?”

__

Spock’s lips compressed, and the little sparkle that was in his eyes dimmed. “Indeed.” He looked down at the suitcase dangling from his hand. “It would be logical for me to investigate that problem immediately. Although…” his eyes lifted to meet Kirk’s, that indefinable gleam momentarily re kindled, “I had hoped to have some time to…share with you some additional information I was able to obtain on the planet.” He looked at Kirk hopefully.

__

Before the openness on his lover’s face, Kirk didn’t have the heart to maintain his irritation. How could he show Spock his anger, when matching it was the memory of the times he had laid against the Vulcan warmth and traced the upturned corners of Spock’s lips with his fingers, reveling in this new indication of trust and love between them? Determinedly, Kirk channelled his irritation back into the corner of his mind, and tucked it away for safekeeping. For later. Now, in the middle of the transporter room, wasn’t the place for its expression anyway.

__

He shrugged, and let a rueful smile touch his lips, knowing he was yielding to the gentle argument of Spock’s happiness, unsure of how he liked that capitulation. “Well, I have a meeting set up for Scotty to brief you in about an hour, at 1900. He’s up in the starboard nacelle right now. I think we’ll manage to survive if you take the time to unpack.”

__

They left Kyle in silence, moving down the corridor with the coordinated walk which had characterized their partnership since the very first days of Kirk’s posting on the _Enterprise_ ; Kirk striding with confidence, Spock with steady assurance, slightly behind his Captain. But as the turbolift moved them to deck five, Kirk felt the need to break their silence. He leaned back against the wall, folded his arms across his chest, and asked with a slight smile, trying to say with ease, “Catch cold on Alpha?”

__

Spock cocked his head to one side. “Catch cold? Indeed not, Captain. Monreth’s home is well insulated, befitting a Vulcan domicile. Other communal areas of the colony are maintained at a human norm, to which I am well adjusted. And I spent as little time as possible outdoors.” He looked at Kirk blandly.

__

A vision of a well wrapped Vulcan scurrying through a snowfall assailed Kirk, and he had to choke back a snort of laughter.

__

Then the turbo doors opened, and he schooled his face back into sober lines as they made their way to Spock’s quarters. The familiar warmth reminded him of the way he had been there just six hours before, and he looked Spock’s way, wondering if some taint of the strong thoughts and emotions he had entertained here might linger in the air.

__

But Spock was standing with his back to Kirk, before his desk. He swiveled his computer terminal over to face him, leaned down with palms flat against the desk, and scanned the screen for messages.

__

Kirk drew in a sharp breath. The position was exactly the one which Spock assumed on the bridge when he bent over his scanners. And thought Kirk had never, never allowed himself such thoughts on the bridge, now a sudden surge of lust overtook him. He focused in on Spock’s ass, presented to him so innocently, as he never had before. That innocence was an essential part of the sexual heat which was now coursing through his body. He could already feel his cock stirring, just thinking of that wonderful warmth gripping him as he slid inside the body that only he knew…

__

He took a quick step forward, then stopped. He shouldn’t, should he? With all his mixed up thoughts and the unspoken words between them? But it had been days since he had had any sexual relief, not counting that crazy dream. Kirk could feel his suddenly heavy balls protesting the interruption of the comforting sexual routine he and Spock had established since they had become lovers. Shit, he was only human! He wanted it, now! That last time, when Spock had come in his hand, he hadn’t even come close to getting off.

__

Another look at the ass presented to him overrode Kirk’s second thoughts. Why not?

__

Three quick strides brought him up right behind Spock. “Don’t move,” Kirk said thickly, and pressed his aching groin directly against the black material stretched across the tight mounds. He leaned over against the long back, wrapped his arms around Spock’s chest and hugged.

__

Spock grunted a little with the sudden pressure, but then pushed back firmly as he reached out to deactivate the terminal, then straightened.

__

For a moment they just stood there, bodies pressed together, Spock’s hands resting lightly against the fists clenched around him. Then Kirk loosened the embrace, and Spock turned within his arms to face him.

__

Kirk searched his face. “I missed you,” he said simply, and realized that so much of what he had experienced in the past days and hours could be traced directly back to that elemental fact.

__

Spock’s hand came up to tangle in his hair. “While on the colony, I was quite busy, with various projects. Your presence would not have contributed to their completion. Therefore, I do not believe that I could accurately say that I also missed you.” His voice softened, and his hand moved to stroke the golden strands. “However, my thoughts while on Alpha were frequently of you.”

__

Kirk pressed a kiss onto the side of his lover’s neck. “That’s comforting,” he murmured, his lips still against the warmth of Vulcan skin. Then, cryptically, “I thought of you a lot too.” His arms tight ened, and he gave a little thrust, the solid bulge in his trousers making his intentions unmistakably clear.

__

“Jim,” Spock said, and the amusement in his voice was clear, “I thought you said that we had an appointment with Mr. Scott.”

__

Kirk nodded, his lips grazing the skin behind Spock’s ear as he did so. Spock shivered. “Uh huh. In forty five minutes. Plenty of time for a quickie.”

__

“A quickie?” Spock began breathing more ra pidly. “I do not believe I am familiar with that term. And,” the hand that was entangled in Kirk’s hair moved down to caress the side of his lover’s face, “I mentioned that I wished to discuss something with you.” His finger traced a path along a perfectly sculpted nose, across the soft skin of a cheekbone, up to the curve of his lover’s rounded ear.

__

Kirk’s cock was already standing up against the pressure of his briefs. He pushed it forward, against Spock’s own hardness. “You may not know what it means, Spock,” he said with a little gasp, “but you’re a very quick learner. I think you’re getting the idea.” One hand dropped from around Spock’s back to go between their bodies. He grabbed his lover’s trouser covered cock.

__

“Jim!” Spock breathlessly whispered, and thrust forward strongly. His hands dropped to grasp Kirk’s rounded ass, one mound in each hand. “I do not believe we will be able to have our conversation if you persevere in this action! You have a…” he paused to take a long, loud breath, and started to knead the pliant flesh within his hands, “very strong sex drive.” It came out as a breathless accusation.

__

Beside Spock’s ear, Kirk chuckled. This conversation of Spock’s could wait! They had more urgent things to take care of! All of a sudden, he felt really good. The warmth that was Spock against him, his own cock standing at attention, his lover’s reassuring, familiar way of teasing that promised physical fulfillment…

__

Kirk pulled back and looked at his lover. “Your sex drive isn’t exactly weak, as I recall, once you let it go.” A thrill of sexual memory coursed through him. He remembered what it was like when Spock let go: hearing the moans that Spock substituted for speech when he was really excited and beyond coherency, seeing the dark head thrown back in mindless pleasure, feeling the strong body convulse against his own in an orgasm that ripped cries from the staid Vulcan’s very soul. Knowing that it was him, Spock’s lover, who transformed Spock, and gave him such pleasure thrilled Kirk beyond any way of measuring it. He wanted to see Spock like that again. He wanted to touch him, to play him, to control him, to make his lover feel physical sensations that he felt with no one else. Seeing the blatant traces of ecstacy on Spock’s face was almost as soul satisfying to Kirk as his own climax. It filled him with power, and made him feel like a god. To give Spock pleasure. To see him happy! Kirk needed it as much as he needed to come himself.

__

He whispered urgently, “Will you let go for me now, love? Please,” he leaned forward to place a hard, closed mouth kiss on the lips of his lover, then frantically nibbled a long line of little kisses along Spock’s jaw and down his neck, “please, let go for me?” He needed to have Spock say yes!

__

For a moment the body against him was stiff, and the hands that had been moving against his ass were still. But then Spock gave a little groan, and Kirk could feel all of the resistance flow out of his body. Spock melted against him, and murmured, his lips against Kirk’s hair, “Jim. Jim. I have missed you so.”

__

Their arms around each other tightened, they both thrust forward violently, and their lips met in a fierce open mouthed kiss. Kirk thrust his tongue into Spock’s mouth; the feeling of the moist, host cavern, so much like sticking his cock into Spock’s tight, hot ass was almost too much for him, and he frantically pumped up against his lover’s groin. Spock’s hands tightened on him, and helped to push their bodies together.

__

Wild exultation filled Kirk, and made his heart pound even harder. Spock needed him! Spock wanted him! If he had been hot and yearning before, now Spock’s uninhibited response made his desire to be inside his lover overwhelming.

__

Gasping, Kirk broke their kiss, and forced himself to stop his climax threatening movement. “Let’s get to bed,” he pleaded, “or I’m gonna take you right here on the floor.”

__

Spock seemed incapable of speech. He moaned, then plunged back into their kiss, sucking Kirk’s tongue again. Somehow they made their way, connected, to collapse onto the bed.

__

In a moment Kirk was up and on top, Spock’s eager hands steadying him. He pushed up onto his knees, then ground his cock against Spock’s, all the while struggling to run his hands up under the tunic and thermal undershirt Spock wore. Impatiently he pushed the shirts up to bunch under the armpits. He ran his hands over and through the lush chest hair, groping for the tiny nipples that were so sensitive. As soon as he found them, his head dropped, his lips began to suck noisily.

__

Spock gave a little gasp, and his head thrashed back and forth upon the pillow. One hand threaded itself in Kirk’s hair, pushing down to keep his lover’s lips exactly where they were, the other hand clutched hard at Kirk’s ass. Spock’s head jerked forward, almost touching his lips to the golden hair, then he flopped back, exhaled loudly and squeezed his eyes shut. Spock whispered, “Oh, that feels…Jim, don’t stop!” A fine trembling seized his body, and he gave up the last vestiges of control when he began to push upwards with his hips in rhythmic, tiny little jerks, in time to his whispered exclamations, “Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

__

It was just what Kirk wanted: his lover couldn’t help himself. Spock was caught in an instinctive search for pleasure that Kirk knew was beyond his lover’s conscious control, captured by Kirk himself. Spock’s motion, so much like what Kirk wanted to do with his own cock, the words, so breathlessly uninhibited, sent shivers of electricity all through him, and pushed him right to the brink.

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His teeth tightened convulsively on the stiffened nipple in his mouth. Spock gave a little cry, but his hand pushed Kirk’s head even more firmly against his chest. Kirk swiped his tongue one last time across the hardened nub, felt Spock shudder in pleasure, then he pulled back, licking his lips.

__

He looked hungrily down at the passion clouded face. He panted, “All right. All right. Let’s get these clothes off, damnit! I want you now!”

__

It was sheer, sexual pleasure to expose his cock and balls to the warm air in the room. He threw the last of his clothing down on the floor and turned to look at Spock, who was jerking off his boots, shirts and then his pants and briefs in swift, impatient motions that filled Kirk with heart stopping excitement. The desire that was evident with every abrupt motion of the strong Vulcan body made him heave for breath, and determine not to waste another second. He stretched across the bed to grope for the lubricant in the nightstand, and uninhibitedly rubbed his cock against the bed as he did so. His fingers found the tube, and at the same time he felt Spock’s big, warm hand on his ass, curving around to nestle with the fingertips lodged along his crack. A fire line of heat raced straight up Kirk’s spine and back down into his groin with the touch.

__

Kirk twisted around onto his back with a growl, uncapping the tube as he did so. Spock knelt back on his heels next to him on the bed, the green tinged cock standing out stiffly in the air, the ridges flared out strongly. He was panting out loud with excitement, and stared at the rosy prick that stood out, moisture tipped, from Kirk’s groin. Hastily, Kirk filled his palm with lubricant.

__

But when he reached down to smear the cream over himself, Spock’s hand was there too. The touch of those hot fingers against his hardness was heaven. Kirk let his own hand fall back, and watched while Spock caressed his yearning prick, rubbing the scream over and around the flared out crown, down the rock hard shaft, back up to tease under the corona.

__

“Damn,” he gasped, “that feels good. Oh, God, Spock, oh, God! I need you!”

__

And then Kirk pushed up from the mattress on one arm, pushed Spock down on his back with the other, pulled the long legs up onto his shoulders, and began the plunge into his lover’s ass.

__

But he grunted and stopped when the constricting muscles refused to give way. He took a deep breath, grabbed at Spock’s hips more tightly, and pushed again. Still, the depths of his lover’s body remained frustratingly closed to him.

__

“Damnit!” he cursed, and shook his head to get rid of some of the sweat that was dripping into his eyes. He reached for the tube again, intending to pull back and take the time to lubricate and stretch the recalcitrant muscle. But Spock stopped him with a hand on his arm.

__

“No, Jim,” he breathlessly insisted. “Please, try again.”

__

Kirk looked down at him, at the passion plain upon the Vulcan face, at the utter sincerity there. This wasn’t the way that they usually loved one another. He was being unusually abrupt and aggressive with his lover, and his next actions might actually hurt him. Somehow, the banked emotions that Kirk had thought he had securely pushed back beyond his reach were being expressed in sexual action. There was anger, irritation and confusion in their bed, transformed into a primitive lust that overlaid the patient love that they usually expressed whenever they touched.

__

But it wasn’t just him, Kirk told himself. Spock was letting him do this, was actively cooperating, and now encouraging him in his dominance even more. His wordless gaze was as fevered as Kirk’s. The steady pressure as Spock pushed his sphincter against the tip of Kirk’s prick begged for penetration.

__

Somewhere, far away, a voice told Kirk that they should stop and use the lubricant anyway, that they ran the risk of hurting Spock if they didn’t. But there was also another voice, boasting that he had been able to drive Spock into such a sexual frenzy that they both were willing to ignore such elementary precautions in their lovemaking, that they both needed one another too much to take the time away from this electrifying contact. With the thought of T’Shil fresh in his mind, and the little tingle of anger and pain which had still not been resolved, and a very elemental, unacknowledged need to reclaim his lover and take control of their frustrating relationship, there was not even a question as to which voice Kirk would listen to.

__

“All right,” he gasped, and pushed again. This time, he felt just the tip of his cock make its way in. Impatiently, he shook his head. It wasn’t enough! He needed the heat of Spock all around him! He pushed strongly a fourth time. Spock heaved against him, and Kirk cried out in pleasure as he felt himself go sliding halfway in.

__

Spock gave a little cry, too, and shuddered. But then he pushed forward even more onto the prod within him, and reached up to grip Kirk’s forearms convulsively, his fingernails digging marks into the skin.

__

But Kirk was beyond registering the pain. The feeling that he was at long last where he wanted to be, at long last home, where all the confusion that was inside of him could be expressed and purged, overwhelmed him. He began to plunge recklessly, pulling out and pushing in deeply, as deep as he could go, feeling the friction of the warm anal wall hugging him, pulling out so he could experience the tightness of the sphincter passing over the head of his cock again. Spock’s heaving body beneath him matched each motion, pushing up strongly to meet each thrust.

__

His eyes tightly closed, blindly Kirk reached out to wrap his hand around Spock’s organ. He began to pump it in time to their thrusts against one another. It felt so warm in his hand. His fingers slid up over the rock hard ridges, he heard Spock gasp sharply, and knew that Spock was on the very verge of climax. He had to see it! He had to see Spock come! Panting in overwhelming excitement, Kirk opened his eyes and looked down at his lover.

__

Spock’s face was contorted with effort. His eyes were closed shut, he was heaving for breath, his bangs were matted and swept to one side. His body rocked cooperatively with every movement Kirk made. The sight filled Kirk with triumph and pride.

__

“Spock!” He meant it to be an exultant shout, but the much loved name came out in a whisper. He tried again. “Spock!” An insistent command.

__

The brown eyes flew open, and their gazes locked.

__

“Yes!” Kirk cried wildly, and he thrust forcefully all the way in, devouring the rippling of pleasure that his own lust painted on the angular face.

__

“Yes!” and he possessively stripped the Vulcan cock from base all the way up to yearning tip. He thrust again, gasping as he felt his lover tightly clench the enclosing rectum all about his cock.

__

“You are fantastic!” he panted, and couldn’t help but close his eyes as he savored the electric sensations running through his body. “This is so good!” This was the way it was meant to be!

__

And then, with a dismaying rush of sensation, Kirk felt his balls tighter, and knew that he was going to come in just seconds, with just another thrust or two. Too soon! Too soon! he wailed silently. Not before Spock came! Not before his lover surrendered to the sensations he had created!

__

“Oh, no,” Kirk cried, looking straight into the brown eyes. “I’m going to come! I don’t want to come yet!” With a desperate breath he held himself still, his cock deeply embedded inside Spock, and tried to ignore the insistent demand his body was making for him to move! to move!

__

Their eyes still locked together, Kirk saw a moment of indecision flicker across his lover’s face. Then, Spock’s hand reached up toward his face, the fingers spread unmistakably in the meld position, and hovered just inches from the required contacts.

__

“No,” Kirk gasped, and tried to jerk his head away. It was a half hearted motion, and he immediately turned back to look down at his lover.

__

Isn’t this what he really wanted? To have Spock in his mind, the way he himself was in Spock’s body? And to have the meld take his orgasm, slow it down, strip it to its component parts so that he and Spock would experience it together, each second of ecstacy multiplied by two? They’d done it before, and it had been an unforgettable experience. Now, Spock was offering it again, with mutely outstretched fingers and the impatient look of passion in his eyes.

__

But all the reasons why they shouldn’t meld warred with Kirk’s cell deep desire to submit to those offering fingers. Even teetering on the very brink of orgasm, he was always Captain of the _Enterprise_ , and now he remembered the sleepless nights that he feared would rob him of his command abilities, and his anxiety over the mysterious engine malfunctions.

__

It was a luxury he couldn’t afford, a desire he could not gratify. Not yet, anyway. Maybe later, when they had talked things out, and the two weeks they had set themselves were over.

__

But still, he wanted it. He looked into the soft brown eyes of the man he loved, and he wanted to give Spock what he needed, wanted to complete the link that was between them.

__

But still, he shouldn’t.

__

And so Kirk hovered, poised over his lover, caught between desire and duty, steeling himself to say “No” once again, fearing what this second rejection would do to them, when Spock took the decision out of his hands. He pressed his fingers decisively upon the meld points, and initiated the meld. Kirk’s anguished “no” never got past his lips.

__

_Falling,_

__

_Falling,_

__

_Falling,_

__

_Into a kaleidoscope of color, brilliant color that_

__

_Swirled,_

__

_Danced,_

__

_Covered_

__

_them with streamers of rainbow hues, with brilliant sparkles of light that brightened the air all about them. Spock floated in the air, a naked Pan, his head thrown back in abandon, his face turned up to the color and the light…_

__

_And then he turned, and looked at Kirk, his expression changing to hesitant invitation, and quiet love. Come, his whisper voice sounded, please come and be with me. He reached out one hand, beckoning, moving forward effortlessly, simply by willing it, in this place where only the two of them lived…_

__

_And Kirk, filled up with the color, scenting that tantalizing flowery scent, mesmerized by the light and the sight of his lover, put out one hand, stretching…_

__

_Their hands almost touched, their faces caught each other, their souls were_

__

_Lonely,_

__

_Desperate,_

__

_Pleading,_

__

_until their fingers met, their minds fully entwined, and they knew the all encompassing comfort of finally_

__

_Coming Home!_

__

_Finding Love!_

__

_Sharing!_

__

_It was the deepest, most intense meld they had ever experienced. None of their love for each other had been lost on Alpha Colony, none of their desperate need for each other had been blunted by the anger Kirk felt over their separation. If anything, this intimate entwining was sharper, and brighter, and deeper, because of their misunderstandings._

__

_I need you! Kirk cried, and he clutched desperately at everything that was Spock. You have me! Spock answered, and unreservedly poured himself in liquid layers of self over his lover._

__

_Kirk drank him in eagerly, recklessly, like a thirsty man at an oasis in the desert. He felt as if they had been separated for months, for years, and not simply days. Before, when he had entered Spock’s body, he had thought he was home. Kirk laughed at himself, and in the meld his laughter resonated through his spectral body and on over to the other spectral body that was also his. This was home! How could he have denied them this wonder, this joy? This was everything he had ever wanted. What had he been afraid of?_

__

_I missed you, they both said, the colors of the air turning a deep, dark purple with the sadness of the words. I love you, they said, and the purple turned to golden hues of sunlight._

__

_It was the most_

__

_wonderful,_

__

_profound,_

__

_awe inspiring_

__

_event of Kirk’s life. He knew, in the most intimate way possible, as he knew his own self, the awe that was also a streamer of golden light in Spock._

__

_Far, far away, electric pleasure coursed through his veins, and Kirk knew that they both were caught in an orgasm of the body, as well as one of the spirit. But the outpouring of their life fluids was almost an afterthought, compared to the cataclysmic pleasure they experienced as their minds_

__

_caught, and_

__

_clung, and_

__

_caressed each other._

__

_It was totally different from their other melds. Clearer, brighter, sharper. And the new intensity couldn’t last._

__

The light started to dim. With an abruptness that took his breath, Kirk felt himself being literally torn in two, and he cried out, in surprise and in pain. The separation hurt, and he desperately groped for the other part that was, and was not himself. But despite his frantic efforts to stay to gether, he saw his other half recede into the distance. And then, he was falling in upon himself, spiraling down, down, feeling alone, so very, very alone…

__

He emerged from the meld with a sickening jolt, gasping. He was still lying over Spock, deeply embedded inside his lover’s body. Spock’s legs had slipped from his shoulders to loosely encircle his waist. He could feel the stickiness of his orgasm coating his penis as it softened inside the part of Spock that had given him pleasure, and rest, and ease. But his mind…his mind stood alone now, in isolation. He shivered.

__

He pulled back a little to look deeply into Spock’s eyes, hoping to find some lingering trace of the ecstacy of the meld. Spock looked back at him, his brown eyes crinkled at the sides with one of his own unique smiles, his face relaxed in the aftermath of their physical and mental lovemaking.

__

“Jim,” he said softly, and reached out with one hand to trace a line down the side of Kirk’s face.

__

Kirk closed his eyes with the contact. Here was comfort. The long fingers felt so warm against his skin, so strong. They soothed away part of the ache inside him, and forged a new connection, one of the body. He didn’t feel quite so all alone, with Spock caressing him. It was so right for Spock to be touching him like this.

__

Sighing, Kirk leaned into the fingers, and then, a little awkwardly because they were still physically joined, laid his head down upon his lover’s chest. The soft sounds of Spock breathing filled the air, and the gentle rise and fall under his cheek was a familiar comfort.

__

He lost himself to memories of how beautiful it had been between them in the meld. It was so hard to bring himself back to the reality of this world. He didn’t want to give that glowing universe up, he didn’t want to come back, he wanted to go back to the meld…

__

With a suddenness that made his heart pound, Kirk realized that this was not a new thought. These were the same thoughts which had accompanied him during the long hours when he had grappled with insomnia, vibrating with the resonances of their joining, when he had feared his strength and command were slowly slipping away…

__

And with a flash of gut wrenching insight, Kirk realized that this was part of what he feared: becoming the indecisive man who hadn’t been able to stop Spock from overriding his objections and melding with him. He recoiled at the twin images of himself poised helpless and vacillating, Spock assertively reaching out to take over his mind. His deepest fear realized: losing command.

__

My God! They had melded again, when they had said they wouldn’t! Incredulous anger flooded Kirk’s mind. Spock had made that decision, and he had fallen into their joining like a lovesick boy, revealing all of his caring and need, forgetting his duty to ship and crew. How could he have been so weak?

__

Outrage took over. Spock was responsible for this! The light and color of the meld were gone in a flash of anger. Kirk pulled back and looked down accusingly at his lover. “How dare you!” he hissed.

__

Confused, Spock stared up at him, a stricken look sweeping the contentment from his face. “What…?”

__

But now every emotion that Kirk had suppressed back in the transporter room came roaring back with a vengeance. “I thought we had agreed to wait!” Kirk snarled. “Just what the hell did you think you were doing?”

__

Spock put a hand on Kirk’s tensed arm. His words were measured, but there was a tremor in his voice. “Jim, there is a reason. I had…”

__

“I don’t care what your reasons were!” Kirk retorted, and tried unsuccessfully to shake off Spock’s hand. “Can’t I trust you anymore?”

__

It was as if he had slapped his lover in the face. Spock visibly flinched, and his hand dropped back down to the mattress. “I…” he swallowed hard, “I…you are correct. I should have…”

__

“You’re damned right you should have!” Kirk pushed up on his arms and roughly pulled his almost limp cock out of Spock’s ass, in a way that must have hurt. But Kirk didn’t care, he wanted to hurt Spock, for any one of the reasons that had built up over the last week, but most of all, for inexorably taking choice out of his hands with the strong pressing of the long fingers against his temples. Ironically, for giving him what he wanted, when he also wanted not to want the meld.

__

Confused by the whirlwind of his own thoughts, Kirk sat back down on the side of the bed with a thump, and shook his head as if to clear it. Right now, nothing was clear to him, except his anger. Spock shouldn’t have tantalized him with the meld! He would not be toyed with!

__

Behind him, Spock had not moved from his position on the bed. Kirk refused to turn around and look at him. Probably, Spock would have that confused, puppy dog look of hurt still in his eyes. He didn’t want to see it! He didn’t want anything of tenderness to make him feel guilty for his anger. It was justified! And why should he feel guilty? He hadn’t been the one to steal Spock’s initiative and will!

__

Abruptly, Kirk got up and stomped across the room. He felt ridiculous, bending over to pick up one sock from the floor, picking another up from where it draped over the idlomputt, knowing that Spock was undoubtedly watching his every move, in that totally infuriating silence. Why didn’t he say anything?

__

Kirk looked around for his briefs, eyes squinting, and saw them where he had flung them in his impatient passion, at the foot of the bed. He took three quick steps, grabbed them up, and held them before his genitals, in a protective action he wasn’t even aware of. He looked down at Spock. His innocent lover. Like hell!

__

“I thought we had something special,” Kirk gritted. “I thought we were strong enough to work through our problems, even,” he swallowed past the unexpected tightness that was growing in his throat, “even this problem with the meld. I tried to give you what you wanted. I gave you all the space you asked for, let you sulk around the ship like some spoiled brat. And what thanks do I get? You leave me for some Vulcans you just met, leave me to stew in my own juices without a word, just when I thought we had a chance of getting back together again. And then,” his free hand encompassed the room, and all that had just taken place there, “this.”

__

Spock pushed up on his elbows in a surge of sudden movement. “Jim, it was not like that,” he said impatiently. “If you will cease your tirade long enough to give me the chance to explain…on Alpha Colony, I saw an opportunity…”

__

Kirk’s insecurity flared. “Oh, right. I did too, it was impossible to miss such a sterling example of Vulcan logic and talent. Did the two of you make beautiful music together, Spock?”

__

Spock furrowed his brow, and a dark look came into his eyes. “No,” he intoned, with great stateliness and great control. “I did not.”

__

Kirk snorted in derision. “What? Didn’t have the time to follow through on your opportunities? Well, I thought we were an opportunity. Now…I’m not so sure.” The tightness in his throat was growing, and he found it hard to get out those last words.

__

Quickly, Kirk whirled to stalk over to the nightstand. He fumbled for one of the moist wipes that they kept there, finding it difficult to see as well as speak, and used it to clean his penis off, before he dressed. Now, standing next to the bed, three feet away from his offended lover, touching himself like this was very, very embarrassing, and seemed so utterly futile. A flicker of desolation hovered on the edge of Kirk’s perception, growing brighter with each silent moment, with each movement of his own hand against his limp organ. The desolation seemed to blend with his embarrassment, and warred with every other emotion churning inside of him. He’d wanted Spock to return to the ship, wanted to talk with him about so much, wanted to lay next to him in the darkness…And somehow, it had all turned to this. Spiteful words hurled in anger. His gentle lover, who still found it difficult to deal with joy, contentment, the simple happiness they had found together, now goaded into resentful reply.

__

Kirk shook his head slowly, all the tension that had been in his body draining out with his anger. Suddenly, he felt very, very confused and very tired. What was the sense of holding on to the anger? What was the sense?

__

A movement caught his attention, out of the corner of his eye. Spock was sitting up in the bed.

__

“You are behaving in a most illogical manner,” Spock said coldly. “If you will control your emotions for a short time, and allow me to explain, it is quite possible that we will be able to reach an understanding.”

__

Kirk turned just enough so that he could see his lover, sitting up so stiffly on the bed where they had just made love, body and mind. Spock’s back was ramrod straight, his voice stern and uncompromising. His pale body gleamed like an unyielding alabaster statue in the light.

__

But before Kirk could even consider how to respond, he caught sight of the built in chronometer on Spock’s nightstand, the timepiece that the Vulcan never needed to consult. The glowing numbers read 1855. The meld must have lasted a long time.

__

“We’re due for that meeting with Scotty in five minutes,” Kirk said, subdued. Could his lover perceive his emotional exhaustion, or had he provoked Spock beyond that?

__

He reached for his clothing and started to dress. Whatever else this rollercoaster of an hour had left him with, he was still Captain of the _Enterprise_ , and he would be late for a meeting with his chief engineer.

__

Kirk pulled on his underwear and socks, found and put on the rest of his clothing with slow movements. He felt like he was moving in a dream. A dream…And he was conscious all the while of Spock’s silent, unmoving scrutiny. The stiff form had not slackened at all.

__

As he pushed into his second boot, Kirk straightened, and turned to look at him. “Spock,” he started, and then stopped, not knowing what to say. The cabin lights were at just the right angle, and Spock was sitting in just the right position, for the semen drying on his belly to shine brightly. The solitary droplets of his lover’s passion for him sparkled in the light, just like the light that had existed between them, because of them, in the meld.

__

“You’d better get cleaned up,” he said quietly. “Get dressed. I’ll meet you in briefing room six.” He turned to go.

__

 

__

 

__

The turbo doors to the bridge swished open, and Captain Kirk stepped out.

__

Lieutenant Qoddoumi looked up from his position in the Captain’s chair, startled. It was distinctly unusual for Kirk to visit when the official bridge chronometer read 0200, still just early hours for third shift.

__

But Kirk had found that his solitary bed was not comforting. He had fallen to sleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow, worn out by his worried and the emotional confrontation with Spock. But his dreams were not pleasant, and when he wakened after a few hours, he lay for awhile in a half awake, half sleeping state. Visions of all that had happened with Spock that evening had whirled round and round in his head mixed in with catastrophic scenes of the _Enterprise_ being consumed by anti matter, and his junior officers staring at him accusingly. Finally, the half dreams, half imaginings had been too disturbing to endure any longer, and he had dressed to retreat to his one true sanctuary: the bridge.

__

Respectfully, Lieutenant Qoddoumi rose, indicating the command seat with one hand. But there was a look of reluctance also on the handsome young man’s face, and Kirk did not miss it. Junior officers always relished it when they were given the con. Kirk had relished it himself when he had been an Ensign, and then a young Lieutenant on the Farragut. Captain Garrovick had even made an offhand, teasing remark about his eagerness one day. How was it possible that Kirk had forgotten all about that amazing, quivering excitement when the center seat, and the ship, was all yours?

__

He smiled down at the Lieutenant. “No,” he said kindly. “You keep the con. I don’t think I’ll be here long.”

__

“Yes, sir,” Qoddoumi snapped, and he didn’t lose any time in resuming his seat. Kirk looked up at the viewscreen and smiled again. He imagined that Quddoumi would be supremely self conscious as long as Kirk remained on the bridge. That was all right. Make him sharper.

__

Not that there would be anything to be sharp about. They were still in gentle orbit about the Alpha colony, the warp drive was quiescent. Spock and Scotty were probably still crawling around the nacelles with their technicians; Kirk would have been surprised if either of them had stopped for sleep. Besides, he swallowed convulsively and dropped his gaze to stare sightlessly at the back of Qoddoumi’s neck, Spock undoubtedly viewed the faraway area of the ship as a refuge. Again. The briefing with Scotty had been incredibly strained, and Kirk hadn’t seen his first officer since.

__

Kirk started to walk past the communications station. Lieutenant Resl’t, the male Andorian, was manning it tonight. He was working on a list displayed on a com slate in his lap, and his antennae were canted straight back. A sign of contentment in Andorians, Kirk knew. If Resl’t had been Uhura, he probably would have been humming.

__

The white haired being looked up at Kirk as he passed, and they exchanged nods, but no words. Kirk continued on his circuit of the upper deck of the bridge.

__

Past communications, Ensign Hunyady had drawn up a chair to sit next to Lieutenant Schultz. As Kirk paused and watched, Hunyady said excitedly, “Check it out with the computer again. Here,” she rose to work at the station, “I’ll feed the visual into the scanner and the comp. See if G 7 isn’t at the same coordinates as 57 minutes ago.”

__

Schultz rose and looked through the science viewer. After twisting a knob, he said, “You’re right! There it is.” He looked up at her. “I think you’re onto something here, Ensign.”

__

She sank back into her chair. “I know. It all checks out except for that one outer layer. There’s obviously something else influencing the orbits. I haven’t been able to pin it down yet. Do you have any ideas?”

__

The young man shook his head. “Nope. This has been your show from the word go, anyway. You’ll come up with something.”

__

It looked like Hunyady was about to justify Spock’s trust in her and find a solution to the pro blems of the pergium bearing asteroids. Kirk was struck by the easy way the young Ensign had assumed responsibility for the project, and how she had pushed it along so rapidly. ‘Your show’ Lieu tenant Schultz had said. And he had deferred to her orders without question. If Spock had been on board at the time, Kirk would have asked him to work on the asteroid problem. He wouldn’t have even considered assigning it to anyone else. And yet, here was Hunyady, apparently about to succeed, just as Spock would have, and in an aston ishingly short time too. It wasn’t just Spock, Scotty, and Kirk himself who drew double shifts when the need arose. For the first time, Kirk looked at the energetic, decisive woman, and saw ‘commander’ written all over her. He had not seen it before.

__

He walked up to the two scientists, nodded to them, said, “Keep up the good work,” and moved on to walk past the viewscreen.

__

He walked slowly, while he thought. The ordinary, comforting confines of the bridge were beginning to yield new and startling insights. Although everything looked exactly as it had ten hours ago when he had ended his own shift, it was as if he were looking at it from a slightly different angle. He felt off balance, as if his whole world were off kilter.

__

Part of the problem was that he so rarely visited second and third shift on the bridge. Oh, he and Spock regularly made inspections, and any red alert brought him racing to take over. But he thought of communications as ‘Uhura’s station’, and he thought of the science station as ‘Spock’s’. They weren’t. There were other beings who contributed to the functioning of the ship during the sixteen hours that first shift was not on duty. People whose ambitions, and skills, needed to be nurtured. People who needed to be promoted. Like Ensign Hunyady.

__

And Ensign Shinswani, who was sitting before the Engineering station as Kirk, hands folded contemplatively behind his back, slowly passed in front of the viewing screen and looked in her direction.

__

Kirk remembered that the very short, very slender young woman had served as a Maintenance Technician for almost three years before behind promoted to Engineering and an Ensign’s braid. he had readily acquiesced to the obviously deserved promotion when her sharp eyes and decisive actions had saved the _Enterprise_ when a routine coil operation had gone awry. Later, Spock had entered a commendation into her record for ‘original’ thinking during the last Orion operation almost four months ago.

__

And yet, had she been present during the briefings that had taken place during this engineering emergency? Was the brain that had already saved the ship once being put to its maximum use now? He looked at the quiet, dark skinned woman, at her stick thin, almost curveless figure, and wondered. Despite Scotty’s own enthusiasms for her work, she wasn’t one of those who were crawling throughout the vast engine area now.

__

No, she was monitoring from the bridge station, and now Kirk walked up behind her just as she stiffened, and reached out quickly to adjust a knob.

__

“Something?” he asked with concern, leaning one hand on the back of her chair, the other on the console.

__

“I don’t know,” she replied distractedly. “That fluctuation,” she pointed to a readout with a stubby finger, “shouldn’t be there. It means the production of antimatter is about to increase.”

__

The one thing they didn’t want to happen. “How much?” Kirk asked tensely, scanning the numbers.

__

“A lot,” she said, frowning. “Three, maybe four per cent. It’s hard to say exactly. But it’s critical. And there’s nothing,” her fingers flew over the console, and her head bobbed back and forth as she consulted multiple screens in succession, “nothing that’s accounting for it. No command from the internal sensors, no report from our engineering comps. That’s our malfunction. It’s got to be. I have to inform Mr. Scott.” And she reached for the communicator propped up next to the scanner.

__

“What?” came Scotty’s outraged tones. “Lassie, you ken nae be serious!” Then, in the next breath, “Where’s it coming from?”

__

“The port nacelle,” Shinswani replied decisively. “Definitely. But I can’t pinpoint it any closer than that, sir. The diagnostics are as definite as ever.” She took a breath, then, “Sir, you know what this means.”

__

“Aye, you don’t have to be spellin’ it out, lass. I ken.” Scotty’s voice was filled with a grim determination that Kirk had heard before. He didn’t like it now. “We’d best be waking the Captain.”

__

Kirk leaned closer to the communicator held in Shinswani’s hand, then took it into his own. His fingers that had rested on the console curled into a tight fist. “I’m already on the bridge, Mr. Scott.”

__

“Captain.” Kirk heard the chief engineer take a deep breath. “We doona have five or six days any more, sir. Five or six hours is more like it, unless we can find the imbalance and fix it.”

__

“I hear you, Scotty.” The surge of adrenalin coursing through his body made Kirk’s voice stronger, surer. He had learned long ago to sublimate emotion during a crisis. Now Scotty needed to discuss possible solutions, alternatives, possibly organizational help. “Is there any way that we can just increase the production of matter from the reactor to match the amount of anti matter? Or just take some of the anti matter chambers off line?” Each had seemed like such elementary answers, and had occurred to Kirk right after the briefing they’d had that evening.

__

“Aye, that’s what Mr. Spock and I were thinkin’ a doin’ in a little while. But that’s impossible now. We simply doona have the time, Captain. Five or six hours isn’t enough. I’d need twice that long, for either of those!” Scotty managed to sound aggrieved and indignant at the same time.

__

“All right, Scotty, all right.” No sense in clinging to impossibilities. “Would it help to get more techs on it?”

__

“Nay, you’ve got to know what you’re looking for, Captain. Without a clear indication from the diagnostics, we’ve got to be testing every chamber, every line. Most of my people just doon’t have the knowledge. An’ I’ve already got all that do on the job.”

__

“All right, Scotty.” Kirk did not let the doubt that assailed him tinge his voice. He looked sideways at Shinswani, and momentarily considered she join the engineer. But they needed someone skillful on the bridge…. He returned his attention to the communicator. “Anything we can do from this end, let us know. Get to work.” And Kirk closed the connection.

__

After that, Kirk rousted Lieutenant Qoddoumi from his chair and prepared for a long, tense night. He sternly suppressed the visions that had haunted his dreams.

__

 

__

 

__

Lieutenant Brian Dawson closed the hatch on the chamber seven readouts with considerably less care than he had opened it. Another false lead. Everything checked out on number seven, just like everything had checked out on numbers one through six. Frustrated, he looked down the dimly lit corridor. Stretching for another twenty five meters on either side were the hatchways that gave access to chambers all the way down to twenty one; reactors to produce the special matter on the left, anti matter producers on the right. Light flickered onto the blue grey walls of the corridor through the plexisteel windows set in each chamber. The light was just one sign of the titanic forces that were being created, wrestled into submission, and channeled into the < _Enterprise’s_ engines. Dawson abruptly turned and squinted down into the window of number seven.

__

You couldn’t actually see the creation of anti matter, of course, just the brilliant sparks of electricity and the swirling colors of the magnetic fields that heralded its birth. The particles that gave the ship life whirled into life in the cyclotron, existed for millionths of a second within protective magnetic fields, then were shepherded faster than thought into the mighty implosion chambers deep in the nacelle. There the protective fields disintegrated under the onslaught of the fierce heat of the reaction chambers. Matter and anti matter particles extinguished themselves instantly, and the resulting energy released was enough to propel _Enterprise_ at warp speeds that had been unthinkable even twenty years ago. Warp eight, warp nine. Some said that higher speeds than that would become routine soon.

__

But not for the _Enterprise_ , Dawson told himself grimly, if they didn’t find out what was causing this confusing imbalance. Too much anti matter was bleeding into the huge implosion chamber, and the fabric of the ship would soon be the target of the voracious anti matter particles. Even with the warp drive inactive, it was impossible to stop the basic action of the engines, the creation of elementary particles, and that was where their danger lay.

__

He shook his head while walking slowly toward chamber number eight. This visual inspection of the built in diagnostics was going nowhere! Frustrated, Dawson stopped and stared at his boots, chewing his lower lip. He was willing to bet his life, and Irina’s, and everyone else’s on board, that every chamber would read perfectly normal. Now that their deadline for action had been shortened from days into hours, that’s what they were doing, betting with their lives. Mr. Scott had ordered him to conduct this inspection, but Dawson couldn’t see the point.

__

Making a quick decision, Dawson turned abruptly and strode down the corridor the way he had come. By the turbolift that had brought him all the way up to this highest level of the port pylon was a hatch, set five feet high into the wall. It led to the crawlway that snaked along the ceiling of the long corridor. The entrance was circled around with red, and the word “DANGER” was prominently painted on the cover. Dawson ignored both warnings. The crawlway would give him almost direct access to the chambers that started the anti matter creation. He’d be able to use his scanner to actually count the anti matter particles being generated, and inspect each chamber’s circuitry visually, and not rely exclusively on the computer diagnostics. It was possible he would find something there…. Yes, there was some danger to him in coming so close to the electrical and magnetic forces. But he also knew the warnings were primarily designed to protect the delicate machinery from the crass interference of the hands of man. Well, that was a risk he was willing to take, given the circumstances.

__

Grunting, Dawson unlocked and pulled the hatch cover open, then carefully placed his scanner on the floor of the tunnel before hoisting himself inside. The crawlway was narrow, but he could easily pull himself along by using his elbows. The communicator fastened to his side scraped along the metal floor, pushing into his side. He paused, reached down to unclasp it, then continued on with it in his hand, pushing the scanner before him.

__

It was a good thing, he grunted and pushed again, that it was him and not Irina in this narrow little tunnel, narrower even than a Jeffries Tube. Irina, bless her straightforward and precious soul, had confessed one night to more than a touch of claustrophobia in tight places, while he had never had that problem. He wished that he was lying with her in the darkness right now. Or maybe visiting a sunny planet on a shore leave that scuttlebutt said would be coming their way in a few weeks. He was thinking about asking Irina the big question then….

__

The circuitry of the first chamber checked out perfectly, and the second too. As far as he could measure, the chamber was producing the correct amount of anti matter, and in the proper manner. Of course, that was what the built in diagnostics had said too. But Dawson trusted this more elementary inspection of scanner pressed against the chamber wall counting anti particles, and his own hands and eyes testing circuits and fields much more than he was willing to trust the computer.

__

Dawson rotated his shoulder muscles as much as he could in the cramped conditions as he pushed the scanner toward number three. His elbow banged against the side, and he closed his eyes as his funny bone protested. Damn! Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. The automatics weren’t giving him as much light as he would have liked, the conditions were cramped, and it was beginning to be difficult to breathe. The air smelled acrid, the same way it had smelled last week, with that sharp odor during the environmental emergency they’d had….

__

Abruptly, Dawson’s head shot up in realization, banging against the top of the crawlway in the process. But he easily ignored the pain, in favor of the realization that was shooting through him.

__

Acrid odor! Ozone! The defective condenser they’d taken aboard from the Tristar station had created ozone by passing the flow of oxygen over an electrical current that should never have existed. That and other defects had created a real environmental emergency for the crew, but they’d scrambled, and thought they’d fixed it.

__

But ozone was enormously more chemically active than its tamer, and much more common, version of ordinary oxygen, and could have definitely affected the workings inside the chambers. Suppose some of that ozone had found its way into each of the chambers, as it must have. Suppose, in this isolated area of the ship, where there was very little human traffic, fewer ventilation systems than on the decks, suppose that ozone hadn’t been flushed out as thoroughly as it should have been. Suppose….

__

Frantically now, Dawson scrambled to lay his scanner against the wall of chamber number three. If his theory was correct, no one chamber would be responsible for the over production of anti matter. All twenty one chambers would be affected, minutely, and would have added their extra one or two particles per minute to the general flow over to the huge implosion room. That would account for the diagnostic reading that said all was normal. The change was small, until it was aggregated….

__

Sixty minutes later, his brown hair matted with sweat, his lungs heaving with the irritation of breathing in the ozone, Dawson reached for his communicator as he lay in the crawlway directly above chamber number twenty one. He had worked as fast as he could, but he was uncomfortably aware that their five hours had ticked down already to little more than one. The pressures in the implosion chamber must be growing….

__

“Mr. Scott? This is Lieutenant Dawson.”

__

“One moment, Mr. Dawson. This is Commander Spock. Mr. Scott will be with you momentarily.”

__

Dawson could hear a short exchange as the first officer handed a communicator to the chief engineer. They must have been working together up in the nacelle itself.

__

“Aye, laddie, what hev ya got?” Scotty grunted.

__

Quickly, Dawson outlined his conclusions.

__

“Aye.” He could almost see Mr. Scott stroking his chin. “That sounds like it might be it. Hold on, and I’ll be down to check it out.”

__

“But, Mr. Scott,” Dawson protested, “we’ve got to start flushing the atmosphere here right away. I’m positive about this. It’s already been four hours….”

__

“Now, laddie, don’t go gettin’ so excited. I’ve been working on these systems since ya were in nappies. Ah want ta see your readin’s for meself. Stay there, and don’t do anathin’. Scott out.”

__

Baffled, Dawson let the hand holding the communicator fall to the floor of the crawlway. Why wouldn’t Mr. Scott give him the order to start replacing the atmosphere in the chambers? Minutes might count.

__

He crawled wearily down to the hatchway he had entered and dropped down to the floor. There was little to do now except wait for Mr. Scott. Dawson was sure of his readings.

__

He leaned against the bulkhead, his legs a little unsteady after the strain of crawling on hands and knees for almost an hour. He swallowed heavily, then lifted one hand to rub his throat. The ozone had really gotten to him, and he felt like his breathing passages were on fire. He knew that ozone was poisonous, but surely not in the quantities he had breathed. When this was over with, he would make a quick trip to sickbay and get Doctor McCoy to check him over. Then he would let Irina soothe the rest of his aches away this evening with one of her massages….

__

Restlessly, Dawson straightened, then shifted his weight from side to side. How long could it take to travel on the lift down from the nacelle?

__

He began to pace, short choppy steps that took him twenty feet from the turbolift, and then back. His elbow began to ache, where he had banged it against the crawlway. He rubbed it gingerly, wondering if it could somehow be broken. He glanced at the turbo doors and then back down the corridor. It wouldn’t take much. Just a call to Maintenance Chief Fraser to start recycling the air within the chambers. But he couldn’t, not without Mr. Scott’s so definite order ringing in his ears. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, go against a direct order. But in the meantime, while he waited, what was happening with the unbalanced implosion? Would the safeguarding fields hold while there was so much anti matter bleeding inside?

__

The communicator at his side beeped, and he sighed in relief. Surely now this was Mr. Scott saying that he had been delayed, and giving permission for Dawson to proceed.

__

But it was the jubilant tones of Captain Kirk which filled the empty corridor.

__

“Dawson! Mr. Spock just informed me that you’ve found and are fixing the imbalance problem. Good work!”

__

Dawson swallowed convulsively. “No, sir, I’m not fixing it. Mr. Scott…. Uh…. Mr. Scott hasn’t given me the go ahead.”

__

A pause. It lengthened, and Dawson wondered if the Captain had gone off line before he said, very quietly, “Would you explain yourself further, Lieutenant Dawson?”

__

Unhappily, Dawson looked at the communicator. He didn’t want to malign Mr. Scott, but facts were facts…. “Sir, Mr. Scott said he wanted to check my readings before we did anything. That was…uh…about five minutes ago.”

__

“Mr. Dawson, readings have almost reached a critical level. We may not have much time left.” The Captain’s voice turned very hard. “Lieutenant, do whatever you need to do, now, to fix the engines and save this ship. I’ll be there as quickly as I can, but don’t wait for me. Do it now. Do you hear me?”

__

“Yes, sir, Captain!” Dawson felt weak with relief. “Right away! I need a line to Commander Fraser right away, sir!”

__

On the bridge, Kirk nodded toward Resl’t as he rose from the command chair. The Andorian efficiently patched in another line. Kirk listened to Dawson’s quick explanation, and Fraser’s reassurance that the chambers would be flushed in just minutes as he strode toward the waiting turbolift. And as the lift rocketed with his abrupt override, he wondered just what it was his own command style had wrought in his senior officers.

__

 

__

 

__

When Kirk strode out of the lift onto the uppermost pylon deck, he was just in time to see the boots of his chief engineer disappearing within the crawlway. Lieutenant Dawson paused to give his Captain a chagrined look, then said awkwardly, “Sir, Mr. Scott is checking out the readings now.”

__

Kirk thought of repeating his words of congratulation to the young officer, then realized how undiplomatic that would be before he had the chance to talk with Scotty. He intended to have a long talk with the Scotsman, about delegation and trust, and not following the bad example of his superior officer…. That left Spock, who was standing at the end of the corridor examining the back wall filled with readouts and indicators, holding a tricorder before him.

__

Kirk strode down the long hallway toward him, passing through the flickering shadows coming from each chamber window. His hurried footfalls made a sharp clicking sound that contrasted with the steady hum that was coming from each of the twenty one chambers on either side.

__

“What’s our status?” he called when he was still a good twenty feet away. He easily kept his voice completely professional, devoid of any of the turmoil he felt on seeing his lover; once again, the ship was a bridge, and a barrier, between them.

__

Spock half turned toward him, but kept his eyes on his tricorder. “The atmosphere in the chambers is being replaced now. I estimate that fifty three percent has been recycled, and the process should be completed in another three minutes. The production of anti matter has slackened; it had almost achieved safe levels.” He too was completely business like.

__

But Dawson, who had followed Kirk down the corridor, was intently examining the readouts on the wall. He pointed urgently at a digital display near the top. “But look at that, Mr. Spock! Production should be even by now, and we’re still more than one percent mismatched! Something’s still wrong!”

__

Spock looked at the flashing figures, then quickly lifted his tricorder and examined its display. “You are correct, Lieutenant,” he said, “although I am at a loss to explain it….”

__

But Dawson excitedly snapped his fingers. “Too much anti matter, too little matter! It’s been a dual problem all along. No wonder we didn’t spot it! And I bet I know where the problem is!” He turned and walked briskly down the corridor, speaking now over his shoulder. His voice was filled with the self congratulatory triumph of someone who has at long last solved a persistent puzzle. “The secondary chamber! Remember? We used it for the coil flushing and re routing right before the mid mission review. It gave us trouble then, too. The seal wouldn’t close properly, and the chamber was negatively polarized….” He straightened and began to run enthusiastically.

__

Spock flicked a quick, enigmatic glance at Kirk, then turned as if to follow Dawson. But Kirk reached out and stopped him by grabbing his elbow.

__

“Is he right? Are we still in danger?”

__

Spock ignored the hand grasping the blue fabric of his uniform. “The danger is not immediate, but I applaud the Lieutenant’s determination to act now. However….” Spock quickly twisted to look down the hall, and his eyes narrowed. “If the malfunction is what I suspect it is, and the Lieutenant does not exercise sufficient caution….”

__

Suddenly, Spock was running down toward Dawson, and Kirk was in hot, if uncomprehending, pursuit of them both.

__

“Lieutenant! Do not touch…!”

__

But Spock’s shouted warning was too late. Dawson was already reaching up to the manual control that operated the secondary matter chambers. His hand disappeared entirely within the cavity that held the circuitry, and then…. Sparks flew everywhere.

__

Dawson’s mouth as if he was about to scream, but no sound emerged. His whole body stiffened as a sizzling electric current from the defective circuitry flowed through him. He hung from the one arm that was buried up to its elbow in the control box, captured by the electricity that was now making his body its pathway. He began to shake, his free arm waving wildly in the air, his one leg lifting from the floor and then slamming back down. Dawson’s face contorted, and the sickening smell of human flesh being burned filled the air. Lieutenant Dawson was being electrocuted before their eyes.

__

But Spock and Kirk were still running toward him. Spock was only forty feet away, Kirk about ten feet behind him. In one swift movement, the first officer flung his tricorder down on the deck, and Kirk knew in a flash what he intended to do.

__

“No, Spock!” he cried out, his voice breathless and strangled even as he ran full tilt down the hall, his eyes on the suffering figure of a junior officer who had just saved his ship, a junior officer who certainly was going to die in just moments if they didn’t do something to release him from the deadly current coursing through his body…. And he couldn’t think of anything else to do but what his lover was clearly intending….

__

Helpless, Kirk watched as Spock threw himself in a low flying tackle at the Lieutenant’s midsection.

__

The next second seemed to last an eternity. Kirk’s desperate rush and the scene before him shifted into agonizing slow motion. As if the sound had been amplified, Kirk heard the loud ‘thump’ as Spock’s and Dawson’s bodies made contact. He was able to see, clearly, in the perfect detail of a persistent, horrifying nightmare, the electric current flow from Lieutenant to Commander, was able to see the cherished body of his lover stiffen in pain. He even heard the beginnings of Spock’s sudden gasp….

__

And then real world time flowed again, Dawson’s body was jerk loose from the current by the momentum of Spock’s leap, and Kirk was upon them both. He completed their fall to the deck, pushing them further forward as they skidded, until the tangled heap that was the three of them came to a very sudden, very silent stop.

__

Kirk didn’t even take the time to look at them; he snatched at the communicator on his belt while he was still recovering his balance and getting up on his knees.

__

“Sickbay! Emergency! Two stretchers on the double! They’ve been electrocuted! On the chamber deck in the port pylon!” He managed to get out all the information he thought McCoy would need in one breath, then looked back down at the twitching figures beneath him.

__

Dawson was on his back, his eyes closed and head strained to the side at an uncomfortable angle. Spock was draped over him, his head lying on the Lieutenant’s chest in a strangely peaceful pose. They were both still breathing, at least, but both unconscious.

__

From the already forgotten communicator in his hand came, “Acknowledged. Stretchers on their way.”

__

He was still staring down at Spock, at the graceful curve of the pointed ear…. Kirk pulled the communicator up to his mouth again. “Sickbay! One of them is Mr. Spock! Tell McCoy that one of them is Spock!” Spock’s hybrid physiology always posed special problems for McCoy.

__

Then there was nothing more that he could do. He was afraid to touch either of them for fear of causing further damage, and he knew the efficient sickbay team would be there in just a few minutes. It looked like Dawson’s arm was broken, probably when Spock had leaped at him with enough force to dislodge him from the current. The fingertips were blackened, and made Kirk a little queasy to look at.

__

He sat back on his heels, hands on knees, and looked up when he heard Scotty jumping out of the crawlway hatch. The engineer caught himself awkwardly, then came running down the corridor. A part of Kirk wanted to scream at the chief engineer, wanted to put the blame for everything on him, and on the way he hadn’t trusted Dawson….

__

Kirk shook his head and looked back down at the two inert forms even as Scotty staggered to a wordless halt next to him. It wasn’t Scotty’s fault. Dawson had his own impetuous nature to blame for his burns. And maybe, he hadn’t had the experience of working in an emergency to steady him when a cool head was necessary. That deficiency was a natural condition of young, eager officers too sure of themselves, and hadn’t been helped at all by the Captain of the _Enterprise_. And Spock…. Well, all that he was had contributed to the dangerous, courageous action he had taken that had probably saved the Lieutenant’s life.

__

Kirk took in a deep, shuddering breath, and had to still the impulse to reach out and grasp his lover’s lifeless looking hand, curled next to his head on the deck. All the angry words that had been between them had started to evaporate hours ago, and were now just wispy shreds of mist dissipating in his mind. He wanted to touch, for reassurance, in love…. Instead, he sagged forward onto his knees, fighting the aftermath of the adrenalin rush that had propelled him down the corridor. And with the release of his physical tension, it was as if there was suddenly room for everything that he had been holding at bay within.

__

The dawning understanding that he had brought with him from the bridge had been reinforced by Dawson. And now, looking down at his lover lying on the deck so helplessly, he suddenly applied that understanding to…everything. And everything that had happened was transformed. It was as if he could abruptly see a part of himself that he had never even realized was there before. Like discovering a third arm, or a way of breathing underwater.

__

He sat back down on the deck with a thump, stunned with these new thoughts. His frustrating estrangement from his lover, the reprimand from Starfleet Command, the lovemaking when Spock had taken over and melded with him, Scotty interfering with Dawson, even the dream when he had fantasized that he and Spock were turning into women, they all had a common, insidious thread….

__

All of it came together in one whirling kaleidoscope of feeling: fear, self protection, indignation, confusion…dawning realization. And when the world settled back down to the dull blue grey of the deck covering, and the reassuring rise and fall of Spock’s respirations, he began to understand.

__

It should have been obvious to him from the beginning. How could he be an effective leader if he didn’t understand himself? And yet, it had taken his own humiliation by the inspection report, the almost explosive destruction of the _Enterprise_ , and Dawson’s intuition to force open his soul and let him see. He was not stupid, and the glimmering of truth was there. He would have to think about this….

__

The turbolift doors opened, and a med team came running out, a charging McCoy in the lead. Kirk straightened from the post where he would only be a hindrance now, and tugged at his tunic. Thinking about control, and trust, and loving enough to change, would have to wait. Always, always, the ship came first.

__

“Come on, Scotty,” he said firmly. “We still have an engine imbalance to fix.”

__

 

__

 

__

McCoy looked up from the chart he was examining and greeted Kirk as he walked into sickbay. “‘Bout time you got down here,” he said lightly. He put down the chart and picked up a scanner in a practiced motion, determined not to let the elusive Captain escape a quick examination. “Stand still,” he commanded as he walked over to where Kirk had paused in the middle of the room. “Let me check you over.”

__

“Bones….” Kirk complained, as he patiently endured. “I’m fine. I’ve just been busy with Scotty and the engines. How are Spock and Dawson?”

__

Grunting, McCoy examined the scanner’s screen, then turned it off. “Well, no problem with you that a good night’s sleep won’t cure. As for Spock, I told you over the intercom he’s fine. Went into a healing trance almost right away. That cleared up the minor nerve damage he sustained.” McCoy looked down at the scanner in his hand and shook his head abstractedly. He muttered, “I’m gonna have to check into that Vulcan myelin sheath. There’s something different about it….”

__

“And Dawson?” Kirk prompted.

__

McCoy’s eyes found the Captain’s again, and he smiled. His earnest face looked inordinately pleased. He drawled, “The best cure for shock and broken bones is true love. All the medical equipment in the galaxy can’t do a better job. I’d say that boy is right satisfied to be where he is, Captain.” McCoy took a step aside and gestured to the far end of the ward, where there was an occupied bed. “Take a look for yourself.”

__

Dawson was sitting propped up on pillows, looking pale, with his one hand and arm heavily bandaged. But seated next to him on a chair pulled up as close as it could be to the bed was Ensign Irina Hunyady. Both she and Dawson looked up as Kirk approached, and their clasped hands separated. But neither could completely hide the radiance of their love.

__

Kirk stood by the foot of the bed. He nodded to the Ensign, who stood as he approached, then addressed Dawson. “Lieutenant, you’re looking much better than when I saw you last. Is Doctor McCoy treating you all right?”

__

Dawson smiled. “Yes, sir, no complaints.” Then his smile faded. He sat up straighter in the bed with an obvious effort. “I understand from the med techs that I have you to thank for saving my life, sir, you and Mr. Spock. It was a stupid thing for me to do, reaching into the circuitry like that, without checking with my scanner.”

__

“Yes,” Kirk replied, taking a deep breath, then speaking very deliberately. “Yes, and I would recommend more calm in the future during emergencies. But that’s what experiences like this teach you, Lieutenant Dawson. Experience might save your life next time.” It was possible that he might have said these words before, but never had Kirk meant them the way he meant and understood them now. The long hours that he had just spent making sure the engines were back in working order had given him plenty of time for thoughts. The stern conversation he had had with Scotty had been self revealing with every word. After all, Scotty had been following the example of his commanding officer in taking all the responsibility onto his own shoulders. But there was no way that anyone clustered about the bed could know how important, and how filled with meaningful change, his simple words to Dawson were. But, he was determined, there would be some definite changes in the duty rotations and responsibilities on board the _Enterprise_ , soon.

__

Kirk smiled slightly, to fill the small silence that had developed. “And you did manage to pinpoint both malfunctions, when the rest of the Engineering staff were still looking.”

__

“Then the secondary chamber was rerouting some of the reactor output away from the implosion room?” Dawson asked eagerly.

__

Kirk exchanged an amused glance with McCoy, standing next to him. Dawson was as enthusiastic about engines as Scotty was. It would be criminal not to harness that enthusiasm for the good of the ship. “Yes, it was,” Kirk nodded, “but I’ll leave Mr. Scott to give you all the details. He’ll be along soon. In the meantime, just rest and get well.” Kirk smiled and turned to go. “Don’t let Doctor McCoy bully you.”

__

But Ensign Hunyady stopped him before he could leave. “Captain?”

__

Kirk looked at her inquiringly. She looked down at the floor, obviously embarrassed. Then she gathered her resolution and met his eyes bravely. “Sir, I just want to…thank you, myself, for saving Brian’s life.” She laid her hand gently on the blanket covering the Lieutenant’s hip. “I…I don’t know what I’d do without him. Thank you.”

__

Kirk’s gaze travelled from her hand to the blanket, to Dawson’s face, full of pride, to Hunyady’s eyes, trained so steadfastly now on his own. “I think I understand, Ensign,” he said softly. “But I didn’t really do anything. Mr. Spock deserves the credit, and your thanks.”

__

Hunyady hesitated. “Yes, sir. He’s a difficult person to thank, I think. I don’t know if he’ll let me. But I’ll try.”

__

Kirk paused in the act of turning away again. He said, gaze directed down at the floor, and hoping his face was not coloring, “You do that, Ensign. Try. I think you’ll find that it will be worth the effort.” And then he was striding vigorously into McCoy’s office.

__

McCoy caught up with him there a minute later.

__

Kirk looked up from where he was seated in the chair in front of the Doctor’s desk and spoke quickly, before McCoy had a chance to say a word. “So, when will Spock be coming out of his trance?” he asked with studied casualness.

__

McCoy took his time circling the desk, sitting down, and planting his elbows solidly on the desk surface before answering. “Spock’s already out of the trance,” he said, watching his Captain closely.

__

Kirk leaned forward, hands gripping the arms of the chair. “He is?” he asked, surprised.

__

McCoy nodded, reminded of the conversation they had had in this room about a week ago, when he had wondered what was on the Captain’s mind. Jim looked a lot more uncomfortable now than he had then.

__

“Uh huh. He didn’t need much healing. He received only a minor shock. Like I said, there’s something about the Vulcan nervous system. Anyway, he’s just resting now.”

__

Kirk looked down at the floor. “Good. Then I can talk with him? I need to…” he looked McCoy full in the face, “…consult with him about something.”

__

“Sure,” McCoy said easily, leaning back in his chair, his words and action in deliberate counterpoint to the tension that his friend and Captain was so unknowingly exhibiting to his trained eye. “A visit from you would probably do him good. It always has before.” He watched as Kirk swallowed, hard. “He’s in his usual private room in back. Prepare to sweat; we’ve put the heat up for him.”

__

Kirk got up to go, then stopped and turned back when he was half way to the door. “Uh, Bones, this is…important. I’ll put the privacy lock on. See that we’re not disturbed?”

__

“Sure, Jim,” McCoy said softly, still mystified, especially now at this half request, half command.

__

He watched Kirk’s back as he left and walked through the ward. As he left McCoy’s office, there was the slightest slump evident, the slightest hesitation to his step, as if the Captain was tired. But by the time he stood before the doorway to the private room that the sickbay staff usually gave Spock, the Captain’s stride was more certain, his shoulders firmed in resolution.

__

Now what, McCoy wondered as he put his feet up on the desk and dropped his head back in his hands to survey the ceiling, what could it be that the Captain had to consult about with the first officer? That inspection report, which still hadn’t been released to the crew? The blasted Eternists, who aggravated Kirk so much?

__

McCoy sighed. He’d probably never know. But those two sure made life interesting.

__

 

__

 

__

The doors in sickbay were specially designed to close quietly, so as not to disturb patients. The door whispered shut behind Kirk, and he leaned against it, just watching his sleeping lover.

__

Spock was lying on his back on the low diagnostic bed, his dark head turned to one side against the pillow, one arm flung against his stomach, the other curled by his head. Spock must have protested against the standard sickbay pajamas, or maybe he had just slipped away into the healing trance before the nurses could object, for he was dressed in black regulation tee shirt and black uniform pants. His legs were stretched out upon the sheets, the blankets pushed down to the foot of the bed. His big bare feet were lax against the sheets in the abandon of sleep.

__

Kirk blinked, aware of a tightening in his chest as he surveyed the body of the man he had grown to love. He breathed in the warm air deeply, remembering other times when Spock had insisted on turning down the heat in his quarters so that Kirk could spend the night without sweating. He felt a surge of tender happiness, that at least here in sickbay, his lover could have the comfort of a temperature that was natural for him; and then he realized that this tremulous emotion, so unlike him, was an indication of so many other emotions which floated on the surface of expression. He needed to express what was inside; he wanted Spock to wake up. He took one step closer to the bed.

__

With the sudden movement, Spock stirred, the hand by his head flopped down onto his stomach, and his eyes flickered a few times, opening. His gaze travelled about the room, until finally it settled on Kirk.

__

“Hi,” Kirk said softly. “Mind if I visit?” He tensed, not knowing if Spock would be willing to talk with him after the harsh words they had exchanged after the meld.

__

Spock licked his lips to moisten them. “That would be agreeable,” he said guardedly. He motioned abruptly to the solitary chair, then turned and, with slow, deliberate movements, adjusted the pillow so that he could sit half propped up against it.

__

As Kirk walked slowly up to the bed, he felt sure that Spock’s fussy actions were designed to hide an uncertainty as great as his own. He settled into the chair next to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

__

Spock carefully examined the clasped fingers in his lap while he spoke. “I am experiencing no ill effects from the shock. However, I am somewhat fatigued, a result of the healing trance.”

__

“I’m glad you’re all right.” Kirk hitched his chair up closer to the bed, and daringly put one hand on the mattress, right next to Spock’s hip. “Then, would you like to talk?”

__

Spock took a deep, cleansing breath, which Kirk interpreted as relief combined with a gathering of resolution. His lover’s hands stayed tightly clasped together, his eyes downcast. “I believe that it is necessary for us to speak of our…personal relationship.” The hands tightened even more.

__

“Yes,” Kirk whispered, “it is.” Hoping that he wouldn’t be rejected, he reached across his lover’s body and placed his hand gently over Spock’s. When Spock didn’t move, he gently worked his way under and through the long, aristocratic fingers, until there was a latticework of human and Vulcan flesh resting together.

__

Kirk looked back up at Spock’s face. Perhaps, to anyone else, the expression there would have seemed unchanged. But he saw a light kindled in the dark depths of the still downcast brown eyes, and the slightest movement of lips that compressed and then relaxed. Those lips that looked so stern, and felt so soft….

__

He looked back down at their clasped hands. The warmth of Spock’s skin against his own felt so good, even in the heat of the room. Such a simple act, really, holding hands. And yet now, so symbolic. A silent renewal of all that they had come to mean to each other in the past months. An elemental renewal, that came before the words that would have to be said.

__

And that was really what it was all about, wasn’t it? That was why he was here, letting McCoy think he was ‘consulting’ with Spock on ship’s business. when really what he desperately needed to do was make right the wonder that had, somehow, over the past days, gone so wrong.

__

He started to stroke the soft, warm skin of his lover’s hands with his thumb, while he watched the austere, revealing face. Spock wouldn’t be the first to speak, he was certain. Spock was still struggling to experience, and express, his feelings; his natural reaction to this emotion filled situation was silence. No, Kirk would have to talk first. And, after all, didn’t he have a lot to say?

__

“I think that I would like to start by saying….” he paused, waiting five seconds, ten, willing Spock to look at him, until Spock’s eyes finally rose to meet his own intent gaze. Was there trepidation in those brown depths?

__

“I love you,” he whispered, looking straight at his lover, willing their merely visual contact to be soul deep, as deep as the melds, as deep as mortal human could make it. He pulled Spock’s hand up to his lips, and pressed a kiss onto the back of it. “I trust you and I love you,” he said again, speaking against the warmth at his mouth. “Can we start with that?”

__

Spock took a long shuddering breath. His hand against Kirk’s mouth was still. “It would be an excellent way to begin. It is how we began in the first place, I believe. However…I must ask, if what you say…is truly what you mean. What you said before….”

__

“What I said before,” Kirk interrupted forcefully, “was said in anger. Human, irrational anger.” He searched the still doubtful face. He had to say something to overcome Spock’s uncertainty, to somehow reestablish what they had before, what they both needed. And though his pride wanted his lover to just fall into his arms without explanations, he realized Spock’s own pride demanded something more from him.

__

“I didn’t mean it, Spock,” he whispered. “I say crazy things when I get mad. We do have something special between us. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you. Please, say that we’re still,” his voice choked, and his hand tightened around the warm flesh still held close to his mouth, “an opportunity.”

__

“Opportunities should not be dismissed lightly,” Spock said, still unbending.

__

“No,” Kirk said slowly, forcing out the words, “they shouldn’t.” Slowly, he dropped their clasped hands to rest on the bed. He spoke as earnestly as he could. “Spock, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, the best opportunity in my life. Please, let’s not throw what we have away.”

__

Their eyes locked, and Kirk could actually see the warmth growing, coming up from the very depths of his lover’s soul. “Jim,” Spock said softly, with utter heart felt depth of feeling. Then Spock was pulling him up to sit next to him on the bed, and their arms were going around each other, and their lips met….

__

“I’m sorry, Spock, oh God, I’m so sorry,” Kirk gasped, holding his lover’s face between his hands. “I was such a bastard. I say crazy things when I get so angry. You know I didn’t mean it, don’t you? I’m sorry.” He didn’t wait for Spock’s reply, but pressed kisses on Spock’s cheeks, across his jawline, down his neck, then up to the sweet, sweet lips again.

__

And Spock was matching each sweet caress with touches of his own, and murmuring Vulcan words that filled Kirk’s heart with ease. He’d been so worried that Spock wouldn’t forgive him, wouldn’t be willing to understand the irrational, human anger that had propelled Kirk’s hateful words. But, his precious friend had always understood him. And, when they had become lovers, Spock had reached out for him as much as he had reached out for Spock. He should have remembered that.

__

Sighing, Kirk dropped his head to one side, letting Spock kiss a wonderful way down his neck. Already Kirk could feel the familiar stirring of his cock, and he knew that what he really wanted to do, right now, was make wonderful, renewing love with Spock, right here on the diagnostic bed of the sickbay. He really needed the comfort of touch…. And from the way his lover was now sensuously licking fiery paths up and down the column of his throat, Spock wanted, and needed, the same thing….

__

They both sat up straight, grasped each other’s shoulders, and looked at each other. A tingle of absolute delight shivered through Kirk as he realized his own love, and his own desire, were mirrored in his lover’s eyes.

__

But before they could make any other decision beyond the delight that each wanted the other to see, the sickbay intercom clicked on distinctively. They jerked apart as if stung, and instant realization filled them both. Kirk scrambled off the bed even as McCoy’s chastising voice filled the small room.

__

“Uh, Jim, would you mind finding some other place to sit besides on your first officer’s sickbay bed? You know the readings go crazy when there’s more than one person up there. Those Vulcan indicators are hard enough to figure out without you messing them up with human ones, too.”

__

Kirk was trying hard not to laugh, and Spock’s lips were trembling suspiciously. Kirk reached out to activate the intercom on the stand next to the bed. “Uh, sorry about that, Bones. These chairs you’ve got here are, uh, pretty uncomfortable.”

__

“Yeah, I know,” McCoy said. “That’s deliberate, to keep visitors from staying too long. So, sit and suffer, but stay off the diagnostic bed!” The intercom clicked off.

__

“Sheeeee,” Kirk exclaimed, and passed his hand over his face. “I guess that puts me in my place.” He plopped back down into the chair and smiled over at Spock.

__

Spock was regarding him with a reassuring light in his eyes. “Perhaps we can resume such activities, at a later time?” His eyebrow arched.

__

Kirk laughed. “We do seem to end up in bed together, frequently, don’t we?” He sobered quickly. “Actually, I think that’s been one of our problems lately.”

__

Spock nodded. “Yes. We both have been guilty of substituting sexual activity for verbal communication.” He looked hesitatingly at Kirk. “Twice. First me, in my hurt and confusion, and then you, in your anger.” When Kirk agreed, nodding, he continued, “Perhaps we are fortunate that Doctor McCoy interrupted us, or we would have repeated out mistake.”

__

Kirk shook his head. “Nope. No way. I’m here to talk. I don’t want a repeat of the past week.”

__

“Agreed. You may proceed.” Spock settled back against the pillow.

__

Kirk ticked off on his hand. “Number one. Communication. Number two,” He heaved a deep breath. “Control. First things first. We haven’t been communicating very well lately, hardly been talking at all. You clammed up after I told you about not melding, and I let you.” He waved Spock’s murmured protest aside. “No, I took the easy way out. I told myself I was doing it for you, somehow preserving your ‘masculine pride’.” He grimaced and looked down at the floor, then quickly back up, earnestly. “But really, I think I was just afraid of the intensity of your reaction. So, that was mistake number one.”

__

Spock interrupted. “Am I not to be permitted to assemble my own catalog of errors?”

__

Kirk grinned at him wryly, and nodded. “Sure. You were next on the list. You stayed on Alpha, and never told me why. We were both too aware of all those people around us to be able to really talk, and that was a mistake. If we’re going to make this work, Spock, both of us have got to make the effort in situations like that, to avoid misunderstandings. We owe ourselves that. I went back to the ship and worked myself into a fine rage over the Eternists, over the inspection report that came in, which wasn’t changed a bit from the first draft, by the way. Behind it all was the uncertainty I felt over what you were doing, and…” he shrugged, and looked apologetic, “you know.” He remembered how he had accused Spock of ‘making music’ with T’Shil, and flushed. It all seemed so foolish now.

__

“Indeed,” Spock responded, “there was never any need for you to be concerned, Jim. Would you like to know why I stayed on Alpha, and what I learned there?”

__

Kirk looked at him steadily. “It’s what you were trying to tell me before, isn’t it? Another example of how I’m always trying to control things. I wouldn’t let you talk, I just wanted to get at your body.” He sighed, and looked troubled. “Tell me now.”

__

Spock sat up straight in bed and swung his legs over the side. He reached for Kirk’s hands, which slid readily into his. “Jim, I stayed on Alpha to ask Monreth for advice about melding with you.”

__

Jim stared up at him, his eyes searching the serious expression. He couldn’t believe that it was Spock who had just uttered such startling words, and yet it was obvious from the eyes steadfastly fastened on his own that Spock was deadly serious. His reticent Vulcan, who had fled into the bowels of the ship before he would even talk about the matter with him, speaking of their mental intimacy to a complete stranger!

__

“You’re kidding.”

__

Spock shook his head. “I assure you, I am quite serious. It was obvious to me that Mr. Monreth is an unconventional Vulcan, and when Mr. Orm revealed that T’Shil had not yet been bonded, I became convinced that perhaps Monreth was sufficiently removed from Vulcan convention to be able to render me an objective opinion about our troubles.”

__

Kirk gave an little incredulous chuckle. “I can’t believe it. Was he very shocked?”

__

Spock nodded seriously. “Yes. You are aware that same sex relationships are not the norm on Vulcan. And I believe that I also disappointed him. He had indeed considered me as a possible son in law.”

__

“No way,” Kirk moved his hands within his lover’s, and gave a little smile, “not as long as I’m around. Anyway, I’m glad that you weren’t interested in T’Shil at the concert for herself, just for what she represented.”

__

“Correct. Jim, allow me a question. Were you able to sleep last night, after the meld which I most unfortunately initiated?”

__

He hadn’t even thought about that. He’d been so filled with distress over Spock, over the ship and report, that it had never occurred to him. “Yes,” he said wonderingly. “I did. Not a very restful sleep. It was filled with nightmares about the ship exploding, but I did sleep. How did that happen? What did you do?”

__

Spock cocked his head to one side, considering. “It would be difficult to explain, as you are a non telepath. I…followed slightly different pathways, and then….”

__

Kirk interrupted him, a smile beginning to play around the corners of his mouth. “As long as it works, Spock. And that was the best meld we’ve ever had, really. But, how come you didn’t know to do that before?”

__

Spock withdrew his hands from Kirk’s. He turned his head down and to the side, embarrassed. “As you are aware, our situation as…lovers, without the benefit of a formal bonding, is somewhat…unique, for Vulcans. Monreth was…surprised that we have attempted to mentally join to the extent that we have, without the bond.” He darted a swift glance at Kirk, then just as swiftly looked away. “Which is the root of our problem. When we have joined, I have hesitated to go into the deeper levels of the meld, as I feared that such an action would initiate a bond which neither you nor I are prepared for at this time. The only experience I have had of that area of the meld was during the bonding ceremony I underwent at the age of seven with T’Pring. It was where T’Pau…joined us. I associated that depth of intimacy with bonding. Unfortunately, I also associated it with T’Pring, which undoubtedly compounded the problem.”

__

Spock drew a deep breath. “However, I was in error. The deeper levels of the meld will not inevitably lead to a bonding. You may recall that I told you that not all Vulcans are completely knowledgeable about our mental abilities. I am not. I am unsure whether it was some unconventional action of Monreth’s, that perhaps matches our own, that caused him to have such knowledge, or some other life experience. But he did know. Monreth was able to assure me. It was my reluctance to enter the deeper levels which was the cause of your disturbances after the melds. Our…emotional reactions to one another required more than I was allowing us; your mind was simply seeking what it needed, to be complete. That was why you felt that you were…resonating.”

__

Kirk nodded slowly. “So that’s why that last meld was so different. You took us…where we both wanted to go?”

__

“Yes.”

__

Kirk cocked his head, considering. He was deeply moved by all that Spock had told him, but he wanted to understand it all before he allowed himself an emotional response. “But the last few melds that we had, before this all started, they felt as if they were going deeper, to me. You even said that we were becoming more attuned to one another.”

__

Spock looked distinctly embarrassed. “I fear that I am not immune to the human penchant for self deception, Jim. I, too, felt the call of where our minds could join more fully.”

__

The quiet admission filled Kirk’s heart with happiness. They had both wanted one another….

__

He rose from the chair to engulf his lover in an all encompassing hug. They clung to one another. silently, and Kirk wanted nothing more than to end their discussion right now, with Spock’s explanation, and the promise of deep, soul mending melds between them in the future. But he couldn’t allow it. Only half of what was between them had been said….

__

He drew back, his hands lingering on Spock’s shoulders. “Do you know what I was going to do?” He went on before Spock had a chance to answer. “I’d decided I was going to drag you to a healer. And if that didn’t work, then we were going to have a long, embarrassing conversation with Sarek and Amanda.”

__

Spock drew back, shocked. “Jim! You would not have!”

__

“Oh, yes, I would,” Kirk replied grimly. His arms dropped, and he turned to face the door. “It would be typical, don’t you think?” he asked bitterly. “The all powerful Captain, always in control of things.” He passed his hand over his face, and walked away.

__

Spock watched him go, concerned and puzzled over Kirk’s abrupt change of mood.

__

Kirk stood in the middle of the room, facing away from his lover. “The meld isn’t the only issue between us, Spock, not even learning to communicate better. There’s more. There’s me. For so many days, I kept focusing on you, on what was wrong with you, on what you were thinking, what was making you act the way you were.” Spasmodically, his hands clenched into fists, but that was the only movement that his taut body made. “I should have paid a lot more attention to myself. It would have explained…a lot.”

__

Abruptly, he swung around to face Spock. “I don’t know if I ever would have realized this, if it weren’t for the inspection report. That, and the crisis with the engines, showed me how wrong I’ve been about not trusting my junior officers to do their jobs, to be able to learn. But I just couldn’t seem to let go. I always had to be the one on the landing parties, heading up the diplomatic contacts, always in control. But I’ve learned now. Things are going to be changing around here.”

__

“That is indeed welcome news,” Spock said carefully, “but I fail to see….”

__

Kirk waved him into silence. He looked at his lover intently, his body bent slightly forward, in the typical aggressive stance he assumed where confronting an enemy. This time, himself?

__

“Don’t you see, Spock?” he almost hissed. “I couldn’t give up all my control with the ship, even a little bit. And I was afraid of giving it up to you, too. Even you. I think I’m obsessed with being in charge, having control. I even had a dream about it, where both of us turned into women. At first I thought it was all just a strange twist on our sexuality, but now I realize that it was really all about my mixed up feelings about giving up control to you in the melds, and in our physical relationship. And that was mixed in with fear of commitment.”

__

Kirk spread his hands wide, as if entreating understanding. “When we’re in a meld together, it’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve told you that before, and you know it’s true. But I have a basic, gut level fear of it, too, because it’s a world that I don’t understand. I can’t control anything about it. You’re the one who’s in control there, not me.”

__

Kirk paused, and took a loud, deep breath. He turned around, took three abrupt steps toward the door, then turned back. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides. Spock was looking at him with a totally impassive expression, and Kirk didn’t know if what he was saying shocked his lover, or disgusted him, or…what. But whatever Spock thought, Kirk had to struggle through this painful, shameful truth. He felt as if he were laying himself completely bare, in an action far more intimate than making love, far more intimate even than their mental joining. The words were not coming easily. He didn’t like what he had discovered about himself, but if the truth couldn’t find a place in their lives, they may as well say good bye now. He had to continue, for both their sakes.

__

“I feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into you, into what the two of us are together, and it’s…frightening. I fear losing myself in it. I was afraid…of what’s going to happen when the melds get deeper, and even more when what I am will be bound up in what we are. I never admitted it to myself, I fooled myself into thinking that it was all because of my duty as Captain and to the ship that we needed to stop melding. That was there, too, but I never even allowed myself to see the rest of my motivation.

__

“This last time we made love and melded, I got so angry afterwards mainly because you had taken the choice away from me. My ‘masculine pride’ protested, and my fear of losing control was there too. I haven’t really learned to trust you, to give of myself to you. I should have realized that you would never have initiated that meld if you hadn’t found a solution. But I’m still this uptight, Starfleet Captain, who always has to be in charge, even when we’re in bed together, even when we’re in each other’s minds.”

__

Abruptly, Kirk turned away and started to pace the narrow confines of the room, from one wall, past the foot of the bed, to the other wall and back again. He wouldn’t allow himself to look for Spock’s reaction. Now that he had started talking, he was determined to get it all out, lay bare all the truths about himself he had recently come to understand, even truths that might hurt Spock. They’d gotten into this mess by not communicating, and Kirk would be damned if he would repeat that mistake.

__

Kirk stared fixedly ahead of him as he walked. His hands were still clenched hard.

__

After a few silent circuits, he said in a low tone, “And that’s not all. This is really all mixed up with the fact that we’re lovers at all. I’m still having trouble adjusting…to us.” He stopped, facing Spock. “I’m a man, and you’re a man, and we…kiss. We fuck one another.” He stopped and looked down, flushing. He seemed unable to find any other words.

__

Where nothing else that Kirk had said had provoked a reaction, this revelation did. Spock would not allow such words to go unanswered. He quickly moved forward, until he was standing directly in front of Kirk. He reached out and placed his hand on his lover’s classic chin, gently exerting pressure until their eyes locked. “We love one another, Jim. Love. Does it not make a difference?”

__

All of the tension seemed to flow out of Kirk in a rush. He put one hand on the thin upper arm, almost for support. His eyes were suspiciously bright as he looked up into Spock’s face. “Oh, Spock, it does. It does, and I want it to. But if we’re going to be honest with each other, I’ve got to be honest with myself first. Understand myself. And that means realizing that I still have a ways to go. I’ve been dreading this Corrigan assignment from the beginning, and it’s mainly because I didn’t want to face the Eternists, to give them a chance to find out that I’ve…” he turned half away from Spock, and his voice became very low, “been sleeping with a man. I’m not proud of that reaction, but to be honest, it’s there.”

__

For a moment, they just stood there, Kirk looking down at the floor, Spock’s hand warm on his shoulder, where it had dropped down when Kirk had turned away from him. What would Spock think of this latest revelation. of which he was so ashamed? Would he be angry? Would he understand? And how was it possible that he could love Spock so sincerely, so wholeheartedly, and yet still feel this hesitation?

__

Spock’s voice rumbled from over his shoulder. “And yes,” the hand on Kirk’s shoulder tightened, “you do wish to…continue…with me?”

__

There it was, that heartbreaking catch in his lover’s voice, of insecurity, of anticipated rejection, and of hesitant hope as well. That voice was like an arrow that lodged painfully in Kirk’s heart.

__

He whirled about and caught Spock’s narrow shoulders roughly in his grasp. He hurled his words into the uncertain face where he wanted only contentment to reside. “God, yes! Yes! I love you! I love you enough to want to change, the way I’m going to change with assigning Uhura and Hunyady and the others on the ship. I just….” he wound down uncertainly, “I just need some time to do it.” He searched Spock’s face. “You’re so much stronger than I am. I don’t think I would have had the courage to talk to Monreth, the way you did. I’m ashamed of this in me.”

__

Spock pursed his lips. “Do not malign yourself, Jim. I will not take part in it. You would have ‘dragged’ me to a healer. And you were prepared to actually speak to my parents.” Spock gently touched Kirk’s face, a gentle stroking of one solitary finger up and down along a smooth cheek. “There is great strength in you. You express that strength in your passion for me, and your deep emotions, even in the regret that you feel now over your perceived weakness. Do you not think it is natural that you have mixed thoughts about our physical relationship, over your newly discovered bisexuality? Such a drastic change in one’s self image cannot be assimilated in a short time. We have not even been lovers four months. It would be unreasonable to expect us not to have doubts, and difficulties.”

__

Kirk blinked, and gave a trembling little smile. “You sound like you’re so positive, Spock, like you’re the guest lecturer at some symposium.”

__

Spock caught his lower lip and looked down. “I do not know any other way to express myself. It is what I believe to be true.” He looked up again and spoke deliberately. “I also believe this to be true. If you wish to continue with our relationship, make it strong enough to face even the Eternists, learn to forge an equitable sharing between us, then you will be able to do so.”

__

“Yes,” Kirk whispered, overwhelmed by his lover’s steadfast confidence and faith in him. “I will. We will, together.” He smiled mistily into the brown eyes.

__

Spock actually smiled back, one of those rare definite curving of his lips that so delighted Kirk. He passed his fingers through Kirk’s hair, keeping his hand curved around the base of the sturdy neck. “And do not assume that I do not share your hesitation in exposing myself to the condemnation of others for our unconventional choice of each other. Our bisexuality has been a shock to me as well. It was very difficult to speak with Monreth. I almost failed to do so.”

__

Kirk quirked an eyebrow, feeling the need to steady his own trembling emotions. “Then, maybe you did catch cold on the planet. Did it get a little chilly in Monreth’s house after your little conversation?”

__

“Jim!” Spock admonished, and his hand tightened slightly around the back of Kirk’s neck in mock threat. “Monreth conducted himself according to the dictates of IDIC at all times. He is an honorable person, and shared his knowledge of a difficult subject when there was no compulsion for him to do so. However,” he tilted his head to one side, “I must admit that I felt no regrets when the call came from Lieutenant Uhura for me to return.”

__

“And then I treated you so badly,” Kirk sighed. He moved forward within their embrace, and rested his head lightly on Spock’s shoulder. He lightly kissed the pale skin of his lover’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

__

“And I apologize also, Jim,” Spock said fervently. His arms tightened around Kirk’s back. “I was being illogical and stubborn when you said nothing could be changed about our melds. And I retreated from you in my own hurt pride, when I should have allowed us to share our sorrows as well as our joys. I still have much to learn about…” he leaned back so that he could see Kirk’s face, “…being your lover.”

__

“No more than I have to learn,” Kirk whis pered. He searched Spock’s face. “We’re in this together, you know. I want to make us work, Spock. You just keep trying to let me in on things, and I’ll see what I can do about this obsession to control everything. I thought that my greatest fear was losing command, and that when you initiated the meld you were taking away what was most important to me. But learning to trust and give to the one you love isn’t losing anything. I want to learn to give to you. And I think that I can find better definitions for ‘masculine pride’,” he said earnestly, “if you help me.”

__

“We will help each other, Jim,” Spock whispered, his hand tangled in the golden hair again. “But…do not change too much. There are many facets of your command personality which I find…quite pleasing.”

__

Was it because they were finally talking that Kirk thought he knew exactly what Spock meant? His hand snaked beneath the black tee shirt, and splayed out against the small of Spock’s back, on that special erogenous zone that only Vulcans had.

__

“Oh, really?” he queried in a low voice, slowly massaging in just the way he knew was guaranteed to please his lover.

__

“Yes, really,” Spock whispered, and he leaned forward into Kirk’s embrace.

__

They stood like that, silently, for a full minute, arms wrapped around each other. Kirk’s hand slowly moved against the warm flesh, not intending to arouse, wanting only to reestablish tenderness in their physical relationship. He could feel Spock’s soft lips nuzzling against his hair, and it made him smile dreamily against his lover’s shoulder. Only Spock had ever been interested in his hair, and he never seemed to tire of playing with it. Now, the comforting familiarity of the loving gesture that was so uniquely his Vulcan lover’s seemed to be the final reassurance that he needed. They were going to be all right.

__

Kirk’s heart swelled with joy. The same unfathomable connection that he had fleetingly felt in the transporter room was in place again. The special psychic affinity that had led him and Spock to be lovers in the first place had been reestablished, and with every movement of his hand against the beloved Vulcan flesh, Kirk determined that he would never allow it to slip away again. This was what he wanted. An understanding of the mind and the heart to go along with the understanding of the flesh; what no woman, only Spock, had ever been able to give him.

__

He pulled back so that he could look at his most cherished friend. “I love you,” he whispered, wishing they could meld right there, and he could pour showers of brilliant emotion over the mind that only he had ever filled with love. And then he would inhale the sweet smell of hyacinths blooming in a new springtime.

__

“I love you,” Spock whispered back, and each word was taken from the Vulcan soul, and offered as a promise, and a gift.

__

They would be all right.

__

 

__

 

__

Spock looked toward the bathroom door, suppressing a wince. Jim would insist on singing while he showered, and there were times when he chose a most unmelodic selection that jarred sensitive Vulcan ears. But, Spock told himself as he settled more firmly against the pillow he had brought over from his own quarters, he had certainly been subjected to worse, musically. It would not be kind to comment on Jim’s occasional inability to carry a tune.

__

He picked up a hard copy edition of Interstellar Physics, but laid it aside almost immediately. Instead, he snuggled under the triple layer of blankets Jim had thoughtfully placed on his side of the bed, luxuriating in the touch of smooth sheet against his bare skin. And he contemplated the most pleasant emotions which had permeated his life the last week.

__

There had been great satisfaction in the renewal of his loving relationship with Jim. And it had been pleasing to see Jim so happy. The mission to the Corrigan Colonies had been satisfactorily concluded. Ensign Hunyady had mapped out the asteroid belt and its contents in a brilliant exhibition of higher level thinking. Both she and Jim had beamed down to Alpha Colony for the signing of the appropriate documents; later, Jim had flashed him a triumphant grin as Spock operated the transporter beam that took the Captain to meet the Eternist Planetary Priest. And Jim had moved quickly to change duty rotations and schedule training sessions for junior officers. The next inspection would not be able to criticize the Captain of the _Enterprise_ for ‘inattention’ to any officer on his ship. And Lieutenant Dawson was already back on duty.

__

Yes, Jim was happy, and it was so satisfying to be able to share that emotion with him within the meld. Allowing an undisciplined but contented sigh to escape his control, Spock brought his arm up and slipped it under his head. He contemplated the ceiling.

__

And yet, it seemed that there was also a great irony in their situation. The meld was generally assumed by outsiders to be the ultimate means of communication; most non Vulcans even assumed that bondmates could not hide thoughts from one another.

__

But the meld had been the cause of their lack of communication, not the resolution of it. And the melds had not revealed the conflicts that Jim had been hiding. They did not produce instant, or complete, understandings. Even now, when Jim tried to show him, within their mental joinings, the turmoil he had experienced during their estrangement, Spock knew that he could never truly comprehend all the tangled thoughts and feelings that had taken possession of his lover. And although Spock tried, he knew that his attempts to show Jim his reactions also fell short of complete understanding. That was part of what the bonding ritual said, “Never and always, touching and touched.” They could touch each other’s minds, share some thoughts, some emotions, but they could never truly comprehend all of each other. They would always be separate. Melding simply could not substitute for the richness of words, and the richness of the ordinary exchanges that made up their lives.

__

Now Spock understood the functioning of the meld, at least between himself and Jim, much better. He would always crave mental intimacy, but he no longer viewed it as being the paramount element of his relationship with Jim. There were many elements which should be balanced, blending to a pleasing whole….

__

His gaze dropped and travelled around the room. His eyes took in the desk where his Captain labored over the business of the ship they were both devoted to, the chess set on the table where they spent many pleasurable, but mainly silent hours, the nightstand, whose drawer sheltered the lubricants that eased their lovemaking.

__

No, his life with Jim was much, much more than the life in the glowing world of the meld. Much more. It was very pleasing to contemplate.

__

“Geronimoooo!” came a loud cry from the bathroom doorway, and in the next moment a body came flying through the air and landed with a Thump! on top of Spock.

__

“Oommph!” Spock whooshed, as the air was forced from his lungs. Jim wriggled, pushing the blankets down to the bottom of the bed, and exposing Spock’s naked hairiness for just a moment to the chill of the room before he was back on top. “Jim!” Spock complained, catching his breath.

__

“You looked like you were a thousand parsecs away,” Kirk teased. “I’d rather have your attention focused on me. And you know I can warm you up.” He leaned forward and kissed his lover thoroughly, his tongue immediately claiming possession of the inside of Spock’s mouth.

__

Spock was not at all adverse to this type of communication, and he enthusiastically responded. He clamped his arms around Jim’s shoulders and avidly kissed him back. The coolness of Jim’s mouth tasted so good….

__

“Ahh,” Kirk sighed, pulling back when they both needed air. “Warm yet?” he asked, smiling.

__

“Indeed,” Spock responded. “And my attention….” Spock thrust upwards with his hips, to indicate the state of his hardened penis, “is completely focused on you.”

__

“Good. ‘Cause what I have in mind will require your complete attention.” He gestured grandiosely. “I have a plan.”

__

“A plan?” Spock queried doubtfully, and eyebrow rising. Jim did so love to indulge in this sort of teasing verbal foreplay.

__

“Yes, a plan,” Kirk nodded, and he snuggled back down upon his lover. “You see, we never have found that Vulcan prostate….”

__

THE END

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**Author's Note:**

> "Pursuing Hyacinths" first appeared in T’hy’la 12 and then was reprinted in Setting Course: the Jenna Sinclair Collection, both published by Kathleen Resch. Many thanks to Kathleen for editing.


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